Last Laugh
by ValentinaBarker
Summary: I crossed his way unintentionally at first, but you can't help but be drawn to a grown man wearing a clown costume. And after showing me his world, he made me realise: Every man is able to love. Joker/OC/Crane. Some Bruce Wayne/OC might also slip in (because Bale is flipping hot!).
1. Riddle me this, riddle me that

"So, tell me more about this Edward Nigma you've been working on, he seems like a quite interesting case. Did you have any breakthroughs yet?"

I dropped two pieces of sugar in my tea, stirred a little and then laid down the silver spoon unto my porcelain saucer. "No, frankly, there have been none successes whatsoever," I reluctantly admitted.

It frustrated me to talk about Nigma, because he would never really open up to me. "He really confuses me. Sometimes it seems like he's just a little criminal trickster with an inflated ego, and then he's really communicative and nice, but at other times..." I sighed and shrugged my shoulders.

Frankly, I liked Edward. He was nice to work with because you were never really in danger of an aggressive outbreak with him; plus he could be very charming if he felt like it, which made talking to him not only easier but also quite entertaining.

I looked up at my co-worker Robert who sat opposite of me in the Asylum cafeteria. We were not alone since the staff shared the cafeteria with the more harmless inmates, for example Humphry Dumpler, who was obsessed with taking broken devices apart and then setting them back together.

"Schizophrenia?" Robert asked, frowning at me. I rolled my eyes: "Gee, Rob, if it really were that easy, don't you think I would have figured it out myself long ago?" He just laughed and looked down at his cupcake. When I didn't say anything anymore, he looked back up again and made an impatient hand gesture. "Well then, Professor doctor Know-it-all, please enlighten me. Why are you so sure it's not schizophrenia?"

"Well, it doesn't seem like he has another character, it's more like..." I had to think about how to put it. "Sometimes he just realizes how much his obsessive-compulsiveness is in control of him. And then it renders him pretty depressed and confused. He's actually very anxious that he will never overcome his disorder, and well... we both know that he probably really won't."

Rob nodded and was about to reply, when he was interrupted by his pager blowing up loudly. "Sharp", he said after a quick glance at the display. "You should probably come too." We both got up immediately and headed for the elevator.

"What do you think is the matter?" I asked curiously. I worked at the Asylum for quite a while now, but Warden Quincy Sharp had never paged me personally; why should he, he surely had lots of employees to do things like that for him.

"I have no idea, but I'll guess we'll know it soon." We arrived at the first floor where Sharp had his office right next to the exit door, which led to the courtyard that connected Arkham East (cafeteria, doctor's offices, special therapy room and library), Arkham West (medical facilities and separate holding cells) and Arkham North (intensive treatment, Penitentiary and regular therapy rooms).

Rob knocked at the door. "Come in! Ah, Dr. Boyles! And you brought Dr. Baker too, excellent."

The Warden seemed very tense, staring out of the window into the dark, foggy landscape, but he forced himself to a little smile when he saw us."I have very important news for you two. A new patient is on the way to us and... well..." Sharp covered his face with his hands and gave a sigh of frustration. "Another new patient?" Rob asked confused. "Sir, with all due respect, we really don't have any place for new patients with all these Blackgate prisoners here." I nodded in approval.

Only a few days ago a fire had broken out in the walls of the old Blackgate prison at the opposite end of Arkham, leaving some staff members with severe burns, but all the inmates were surprisingly fine.

After that, they were transferred to Arkham Asylum where we now had to put up with them. The problem was not only that they were rude and highly dangerous, they also started to unsettle our own inmates, which was something I hated to see. We had worked so hard to make some progress, even just a little bit, trying to reduce their aggressions, just to see our work crushed by a few mediocre thugs.

"I know, I know, things have been chaotic with the Blackgate inmates here, but we can't turn this particular patient down." The warden inhaled deeply and then looked up at the two of us. "It's the Joker."

The Joker. Both Rob and I tensed at once. I hadn't worked in Arkham long enough to experience the Joker's last escape, but I had heard the stories. Everyone had, with Joker on the run and on the news constantly for the last two months.

"Batman is bringing him here personally. They should arrive in about an hour, so we have some time to get ready. I think it would be best if you went to the entrance with the security staff to wait."

When we were outside, Rob and I stood around in the hallway indecisively for a little while. "I think I'll go and take a look at the cell he's going to live in." Rob announced with a nervous look and then took off to the elevator again, waving me goodbye. He had always hated showing someone that he was scared, especially me.

Robert Boyles and I had been friends for as long as I could remember. Even when we were just little children, we have always been there for each other. He, being smarter and more thoughtful than me, had always kept me out of trouble and in return, I had helped him with his first clumsy attempts to talk to girls. After that, we had gone to the same college, sharing a flat and often studying together for big exams. We had parted after that, I had started to work for a big company as their spin doctor, he had accepted a job at Arkham Asylum. After a while, I grew more and more unsatisfied with my profession, and he managed to convince me that I come and work at the Asylum with him.

I really liked this job, and I loved working with Robert, but sometimes he just really irritated me. Like right now, when he refused to show me how worried he actually was about the Joker coming here. He had - reluctantly - told me a part of the story of the Joker's last breakout, and honestly, even just hearing it scared me greatly.

I decided to quickly go to the general staff room in Arkham North, where I worked, to get my notes on the Joker just in case I'd need them.

When I passed the hallway leading to the inner courtyard of the Asylum, I caught a quick glance of my reflection in the mirror. I looked tired and nervous and dark circles started to form under my eyes thanks to the sleepless nights I often had recently.

My nightmares were the reason I was often up at night working on my cases, because I just couldn't bear to close my eyes again; and the problem was, as soon as I was awake, the nightmares dissolved, making them luring ghosts that I could not get a hold of, but that I knew were there.

I swept back my shoulder length light brown hair into a ponytail and tidied my messy bangs. I had extremely pale skin, which was great when I wanted to fake a sickness, but right now I could kill for some colour.

I tried to get a little blush on my cheeks by slapping them slightly and then turned away from my reflection since I couldn't do much anyway.

I had never considered myself a beauty - I thought my nose was to big, my eyes were to small, my lips were to thin, my belly was to chubby, the list was endless - but the truth was that I simply didn't really care. What I lacked in looks I made up in brains, and since I hadn't exactly fallen off the ugly tree either, there were more important things on my mind than my appearance.

As I crossed the courtyard, I ran into a group of inmates accompanied by a guard. "Hey Mike, time for the afternoon walk?" I asked casually. The inmates that were not considered a high threat were allowed to go on a walk once a day within the Asylum courtyard, accompanied by several guards of course.

"Yeah," he nodded. "But I'll have to take them back sooner then expected because of our new arrival." "Shame," I replied sarcastically. The guards hated being on walk-duty and Mike was probably more than happy to go back to his usual work. He laughed.

Right then, a tall and skinny man with short fire-red hair strode over to us, positioning himself right in between me and Mike, which seemed to cross the latter.

"Hello Edward, how are you?" I greeted my patient friendly, but he ignored it.

"Riddle me this, doctor!" He demanded. "I stare at you, you stare back at me. You're a copycat, I can see. Whatever I do, you seem to do, too. Who am I?"

I shook my head, determined not to play his game. „You're Edward Nigma, Edward, and you know that you don't have to talk to me in riddles, alright?"

The disappointment instantly showed on his face. „And I almost considered you a worthy opponent," he said frustrated and turned away from us.

I rolled my eyes, I just couldn't bear it when he was like this.

„The answer is a mirror, Edward," I shouted after him and straight away he turned around again with a wide grin on his face, hurrying towards me.

„I saw you looking at your reflection in the hallway," he proudly announced. „And then I quickly made this up. Do you like it?" „It rhymes. You know I like the riddles best when they rhyme."

I had set down a rule when I first met Edward, saying that I would only answer his riddles on every second meeting, and of course only when he told them to me in a calm, relaxed way.

I planned on narrowing the riddling down so much that we could someday have most of our meetings completely riddle-free, just talking normally, but it occurred way too often that I met him outside of the therapy room and let him talk me into solving his puzzles.

Now his face turned a little more serious and he took another step towards me, being a little too close for comfort. „Err.. Edward, private space?" I looked at Mike who understood and put his hands on Edward's shoulders, ready to pull him away at any second, but Edward didn't attack me.

„I think you should take tomorrow off, doctor," he whispered softly with a look of worry on his face. „You look tired. And tomorrow might get a little troublesome."

„Don't you threaten her, Nigma," Mike said sharply. „Get back in line."

With that he pulled Edward back and pushed him back to the other criminals. „I don't think he was threatening me." I tried to defend him, but then noticed that I was running out of time.

„You can tell me tomorrow, okay, Edward?" I offered walking backwards towards the door, but he just shook his head. „I am invisible and yet I am. I can make you suffer, I can make you weep, but without me you would not exist. I am the cause of almost all the discord in the world, as well as almost all cooperation. What am I?"

I continued walking to the entrance door, shouting over my shoulder. „It doesn't rhyme, Edward!"


	2. Welcome to the madhouse

Chapter 2: Welcome to the Madhouse

Hey guys, thanks so much for the (very unexpected and highly appreciated) feedback! It's great to know you like the story, you made my day! As you might notice at some point, my English is not perfect, and since this is my first English fic, please don't be too harsh with me if there are some grammatical errors.

Today, I finally got the Batman Arkham Asylum game, which contains the Joker, Crane, Harley Quinn AND the Riddler, so I might not be writing as much in the next couple of days. Just to warn you.

* * *

"Gee, they'd better arrive soon, Sharp's getting nervous." "I know. I am, too."

We had really been waiting for quite a while now, and somehow I started getting worried. Of course, I wasn't exactly looking forward to having an extremely dangerous new inmate here, but I'd definitely rather have him here than on the loose.

Additionally, like any good scientist, I had a natural desire to always understand as much as I could, making me insanely curious for the unknown, and the Joker just so happened to be part of that unknown.

Finally, I saw the main door opening, and from behind all the security guards I finally got to see the infamous criminal.

He was strolling along the corridor in the most casual way I had ever seen, walking like he had chosen to be here, except for the fact that he had handcuffs on. Wearing those typical, ridiculous looking dark purple dress pants, a light purple shirt and a green vest he walked up to the Warden, shielded by security guards.

As I got a better view of his face, I just had to stare at his famous scars. They were covered with red lipstick like his lips, which gave him the look of a permanent smile and contrasted strongly with the white clown-make-up he had plastered on the rest of his face. His scars were much more striking in reality than they were in the pictures, the smooth surface of his skin suddenly interrupted by the uneven, rough wound.

Other than his scars, his eyes - caramel brown coloured, flickering wildly from one side to the other - were probably his most prominent feature, thickly circled with black eye shadow. His green, greasy looking hair hung into his face and when he started to talk, I could see how yellow and unhealthy his teeth looked.

"Hey there, Sharpie, old boy!" he said in a deep voice and with a wide grin on his face which stretched his scars.

I didn't listen to Sharp's reaction, because someone else had captured my attention.

Batman had entered the room after the Joker, sticking to the shadows and walking slowly with his back to the wall. He looked stressed out - well, as stressed out as you can look with your face mostly covered in a rubber mask - and I could understand why.

The Joker really hadn't cut him any slack in the last weeks, and catching him must have been difficult enough, but now dealing with his stupid jokes all the way here? Batman must be eager to get home and get himself some rest.

"Get this animal into his cage!" called Sharp angrily, and a moment later, the guards were all over the Joker, tying him to some device with wheels that looked like an standing sickbed.

"Batman," said Sharp and waved Rob and me over to him. "These are Dr. Robert Boyles and Dr. Valentina Barker. They're here to supervise the transport."

Batman nodded at Rob quickly and then I caught his eye.

"You weren't here two months ago, were you?" he asked with an incredibly deep voice that made me jump a little.

"Do you know all the staff of Arkham Asylum?" I asked curious and he gave a little nonchalant grunt which I interpreted as a laugh.

"All that are important enough to be assigned with something like this." He stared down at me intently and I lowered my gaze to the ground, feeling very uncomfortable.

"I guess I quickly climbed the corporate ladder," I slowly mumbled and then followed the orderlies that pushed Joker through the hallway.

"He's extremely dangerous, I should go with you and ensure that nothing happens," the Bat announced, pushing through the door behind me. "I didn't mean to offend you," he added quietly.

"No offence taken," I immediately responded and shot a little, forced smile into his general direction although I really didn't like his intent looks.

Rob put a hand on my back, helping me inside the elevator and glanced at Batman suspiciously. "There's something wrong with this guy," he whispered in my ear.

"What, you mean other than the fact that he's dressed as a bat?" I whispered back, but unfortunately, it was a little too loud.

"I think she's talking about you, Bats!" laughed the Joker and looked at me directly for the first time. "Well, well, well, what have we here!" he cackled. "Aren't you a beauty?"

Staring at him a little taken aback, I could feel my cheeks get hot with a blush and it took me a second to check myself, only barely managing to bitterly retort: "I've heard better jokes."

Then I looked away from him, forcing my gaze away even though nothing else was even nearly as interesting as he was.

It was pretty hard, and it didn't seem to have the designated effect, either, since he still continued to gape at me with his head tilted to the side like someone studying an interesting sculpture.

"I think he's up to something. Catching him was way too easy this time, and with all these Blackgate prisoner being here..." said Batman, and the Warden looked up at him in surprise.

"Oh, don't you worry, Arkham has one of the best security systems in the whole world."

"Didn't stop me last time, though!" mocked the Joker and Sharp looked at him, clearly irritated.

Finally, we arrived at the Extreme Incarceration area, which was in Arkham West, separated from the regular Penitentiary and which was also where the most dangerous of our detainees were kept.

"Attention all Arkham personnel: We are currently at 'Code Red'. Shoot to kill permissions are granted. Hostile behaviour towards employees is highly likely. Be very careful in handling the patients and to be prepared for a body scan as part of our additional security measures."

The automatic announcement continued to give the workers several security tips, but I didn't listen anymore, since the Joker started to struggle in his sickbed, trying to wave to the inmates that were shouting his name.

"Stop that or I'll have you tranquillised!" threatened Sharp, but then carried on just ignoring him.

"Will you be the ones treating him?" asked Batman and looked at me.

"I don't know. I don't think that they'll give someone like him to a new worker, it would be tempting, though." I couldn't contain an smile at the thought of working on Joker's case. I couldn't imagine anything more interesting.

"Why that? I should think that someone as young as you would be scared at the prospect of that? Well, probably anyone with common sense would be scared..."

I laughed since it was the truth, but then I shrugged my shoulders.

"We're either scared of the unfamiliar, or else we're fascinated. And I guess you are not part of the scared either, are you?"

"Are you trying to analyse me, doctor?" he asked with a surprised voice and again I had to laugh. "Maybe."

We finally arrived at the Joker's cell and the guards brought him inside, untying him from his transport device and then locking him in.

"Cash, I want you to get him into his prison uniform and to wash of the paint of his face," said the Warden, gesturing to the Joker without really looking at him.

"Oh, no!" he protested. "Why don't you let the pretty doctor do that?"

"Shut your filthy mouth, clown!" shouted Sharp and then turned to us. "I suggest you go home and sleep, doctors, and I'm sure you could use some rest too, Batman."

Batman left us - not without making me shiver by one of his gazes once again - through a side door, and the Warden quickly headed back to his office.

"Do you want me to give you a ride?" Rob offered, but I just shook my head.

I knew that the nightmares would come back as soon as I closed my eyes, so why even bother trying to sleep. "No, it's okay, I think I'll check on my patients when I'm already here."

He gave me a worried look. "Why don't you take some time off once in a while, Val? A break wouldn't kill you, you know..."

I just laughed and patted him on his back. "I'll be all right, Rob."

We had a staff room in each facility, which was where I was headed now. I would get my own office soon enough, Sharp kept assuring me, as soon as they had cleaned up the empty rooms in the East facility that had been destroyed in Poison Ivy's last break out attempt, but right now, I had to share with the research team, the orderlies and some other doctors. At least I had my own locker, a shelf in the fridge and a computer account for myself.

My to-do-list was enormous. Protocols, office work, but only two choices really were attractive: I could visit Edward, but he usually went to sleep quite early and didn't like to be woken up; and there was also a patient that was about to be transferred to Rob who I could check on.

Jonathan Crane was the name on the notes that I grabbed before heading out the door again.

I wasn't the last person in the building, the security staff and some emergency doctors always were always here, even at night, but still the corridors of the Asylum were strangely lifeless.

I had to go up to the Extreme Incarceration area again, and this time that I came without Sharp and Batman, I had to endure the standard security scans by brainless guards that always made stupid jokes when I met them.

When I finally got past security, I suddenly noticed that I was pretty close to the Joker's cell again. Might as well check how he settled in, right?

As I got closer to him, I noticed that the light in his room was still on.

"Not in bed yet, are we?" I asked inquisitively and walked up to the unbreakable security glass through which I could see him.

The Joker laid on his bed, outstretched, grinning at the ceiling with a distant look on his eyes. He wore the typical light green Arkham prisoner uniform, but he still had his make-up on.

"Ah, doctor! Did you, eh, miss me already, huh?"

He smiled at me, not a bit surprised that I came to see him so soon.

"I thought Cash took off your make-up?" I asked curiously. "How did you manage to get it back on again?"

He laughed amused, stood up from his bed and then walked up to the glass.

"Ha ha ha ha hi hi hi hi... Magic!" He put his hands up like a magician and looked at me expectantly. "But I'll tell you my, my little trick if you, eh, do a little something for me."

He smacked his lips in anticipation.

"And what would that little something be?" I tilted my head, but just for the effect, because I wasn't really going to negotiate with a criminal like him. At least that's what I told myself.

"Oh, nothing really, just one little favour." He held up his index finger and grinned at me with the most innocent look that I've ever seen. "You have to tell me something about yourself."

I was a little startled by how unexpected his demand was. I had thought more in the lines of "Help-me-break-out" or "Get-me-a-gun", the usual requests from patients, but this was new to me.

Joker seemed to notice my surprise. "You see, I just really like to get **inside **of people."

He started to laugh.

**"HA!"** Suddenly he was up against the glass, just inches away from my face, and said with a much deeper, slower voice: "And now I wanna get inside you."

I jumped back in shock and immediately could have slapped myself for it. Never show them that your scared!

"You really are crazy, aren't you?" I shouted out furiously and took another step away from the cell. I knew it was unprofessional, but I didn't care.

"No, I'm not." He mumbled with a very serious face and angrily repeated it louder. "No. I'm not."

"Goodbye." I snapped, turned away from his chamber and left, even though he called after me.

I should have known better than to talk to him at all, I scolded myself.

Now I'd have even less time to check on Jonathan Crane. I hurried along the corridors, my mind still with the Joker.

When I arrived at Crane's room, I had to stop and catch my breath to calm myself down. I could not let a patient see me this distressed, it was bad enough that I had let the Joker upset me.

This had definitely ruined my chances of ever working with him.

"Doctor Crane?" I asked, stepping out into his sight. "My name is doctor Valentina Barker." - Jesus, this man was attractive!

Don't get me wrong, of course I believed that beauty was only skin deep, but still, I had never in my life seen such a good-looking criminal... although, the Joker was rather easy on the eyes too - oh, what was I thinking about!

Really, Valentina, a pair of pretty eyes and a nice set of wide set choppers and bye-bye seriousness!

Crane got up from the small desk in his cell, eyeing me with interest.

"Hello doctor, how may I help you?"

He had these perfect icy blue eyes which could make every woman weep, combined with that wonderful long dark brown hair - I've always had a thing for men with long hair; the bad-boy attitude, the adventurous look, you get my point.

Plus his face was downright divine, high cheekbones and a perfectly defined chin... oh, I was at it again.

Trying to control my thoughts, I stared at the ground and realised that I had completely forgotten what I wanted to ask him.

"I... I... I actually just wanted to see if you were all right..." I managed to stutter and blushed beyond recognition.

"Is that so, doctor. That's a little... strange, don't you think?" He raised one perfectly arched eyebrow. "Do you often feel the need to do things that are unconventional?"

With a smile I gathered back all of my wits and dismissed his question.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Crane, but we don't have time to talk about me. On another occasion perhaps, but for now I will ask the questions."

I pulled a chair over on which I could sit down and pulled out my notepad.

"How do you feel today?" I asked him casually and motioned him to sit down on his side as well. He seemed a little surprised at my sudden change of character, but he hid it quickly enough. "I feel fine, doctor, how are you?"

"I'm fine, too, thank you. How have the last few days been for you? Did you sleep well? Was your temper well-balanced?"

He smiled at me and dimples appeared in that damn beautiful face of his. I felt like he was mocking me. "I've never been better - well, at least not inside this Asylum."

"How do you like your current doctor," I looked for the name in my notes. "Dr. Schneider?"

"Oh, I'm being transferred, aren't I? How fun!" He answered, smiling his smug grin.

"I think that Dr. Schneider suffers from pathological lying. Deep down he knows that it's him who's insane, but still he denies it and continues to claim that he is actually the one treating me. Crazy, isn't it?"

I looked at him, trying to figure out whether he was serious and than quickly wrote it down. "And what have you done about this 'pathological lying'?" I asked, playing his game.

"Oh, there's really nothing I could do. I've tried confronting him with his fears, I really have, but he's very, very persistent about it, doctor, and I think that without medication, it'll be hopeless."

I wrote it down. "What medication do you mean exactly?"

"Oh doctor, please don't tell me you've never heard of the medicament that I invented?" Now Crane looked downright shocked.

"I'm sorry to disappoint you," I said and a smile spread on my face. Pretty boy seemed upset.

"I have developed a drug that helps people to open up freely," he explained impatiently. "It really improved the work with my patients - that is until we accidentally dropped some waste products into the Gotham sewers."

„Ah, yes, I remember, it was all over the news. That was you?" Pah, help people open up! What a two-faced liar! It drove them crazy and made them have hallucinations!

He just nodded and looked at me with his peaceful, gorgeous face.

„So, tell me, Dr. Crane, it sounds like you quite miss your work as a psychiatrist. Is that so? Do you miss treating people?" A swift look to the clock told me that it was already eleven o'clock. It would be midnight until I was home, so it was definitely time to bring it to an end.

„Why should I miss my work, doctor?" Crane asked innocently. „I still have it!"

„How is that?" I inquired.

„I treat you, doctor," he said and started to laugh wildly, crazily and rocked on his chair like mad. I sighed quietly and stood up. „Thank you Dr. Crane. It was nice talking to you."

This discussion had only frustrated me more, first Joker, now Crane, I actually missed just having Edward as my patient. If only I wouldn't be so damn ambitious, I could have just gone home with Rob and enjoyed a free evening.

I passed by the Joker's cell once more as I headed out of the Asylum, and even though the light was off now, I could have sworn I heard a voice whisper: „Goodnight, doctor."

Maybe it was just wishful thinking. Maybe.


	3. Trouble ahead

Thanks for reading :D review! Next chapter should be up around tuesday, I was ill and in bed with fever, that's why this one took so long.. Sorry!

* * *

When I woke up the next morning, I felt much better, and surprisingly enough, I had slept through the night without being woken up once by my nightmares.

Yawning I made my way into the kitchen, grabbed a cup of coffee and then went to the bathroom to get ready. The Joker still lingered on my mind when I put on the dreaded dark blue skirt suit, when I went to the station and waited for my train, when I entered and exited the ferry and when I arrived at Arkham Island. I tried to shake my head free of the confusing thoughts and the mixed feelings, but his happy smile stayed with me, floating in front of my inner eye.

The cold spring breeze made me shiver while I staggered through the wild gardens that covered the island towards the big iron gate and I thought of how cold it must be in the cells of the Asylum at night, when it was dark and all you could see were the dark silhouettes of the guards that were free to do what they wanted, and all you could hear were the screams and the shouting and howling of the other inmates.

We treated them like animals, because we didn't know any better.

But he was different, I knew it. He was just trapped in a corner, with no other way to go, nothing left to do but attack. And now he was in a cage, watched at all time, every second of his life, unsmiling faces and cold eyes staring at him, trying to find out what was wrong with him. Even he knew there was no cure.

I knew he wasn't like the others. The other doctors, they didn't care about it. They didn't feel pity anymore, nor compassion or genuine understanding.

I wouldn't tell anyone that he was unique, of course. I would continue to call him a dangerous criminal or a deranged mind, and I would keep my knowledge to myself like a shiny jewel to admire when I was alone.

I met Rob in the entrance hall, entering the elevator with him."I had a look at Jonathan Crane yesterday, I hope you don't mind."

"Jonathan who?"

I gave an annoyed grunt. "Dr. Jonathan Crane? Scarecrow? Your new patient?"

"Ah, him," said Rob without much interest.

"So, don't you want to know what he's like?" I asked irritated. Rob got one of the most interesting -and good-looking! - patients in this Asylum and didn't even care about it, while I was stuck with Edward and the 'Calendar Man'.

He shrugged his shoulders and pushed his thick glasses back on his nose. "You're going to tell me all about him anyway, aren't you?"

I glared and him and basically shoved my notes into his face. "He's very eloquent. But he's strongly delusional."

Rob took the sheets and then carelessly put them somewhere into his note pad. "I think I'll see for myself, I'll meet him today." He was really getting on my nerves right now. Barely controlling my temper, I pushed past him and exited the elevator. Luckily, Robert was almost as small as I was - and that was saying something since I was only 5'5'' - so walking by, I could elbow him in the chest _accidentally_.

I was in Arkham North and headed to the therapy room straight away.

"Hello, Ed," I smiled when I saw my favourite patient and his guards on the way down the hallway. I felt relaxed again; I was about to have a peaceful, calm session with Edward, and there was nothing that could keep me from that.

"Hello, doctor," answered Edward, looking strangely tensed. I was about to follow him and the guards into the therapy room when I heard someone call my name. Turning around I saw the Warden and an absolutely stunning man come towards me.

"Dr. Barker, there's someone I'd like you to meet." The man waited with a winning grin on his face, while I tried to juggle my bag and note pad in order to have a free hand to greet him.

"This is Mr. Wayne, an old supporter of our institution," Sharp explained.

"Not that old," Wayne objected with a stupid grin and the Warden roared with laughter like he had just heard the funniest joke ever. Wayne smirked at me looking somewhat proud, somewhat demanding, and I forced a very unconvincing smile.

I knew Bruce Wayne, of course. It was almost impossible not to if you lived in Gotham city. From what I had heard, he was the kind of bigheaded, arrogant billionaire heir that got drunk in public, crashed his own parties, disappeared from high society events with some Russian ballerina or anything similar, which more often than not got him into the headlines of the newspapers.

All the more I was surprised that he wanted to visit an insane Asylum, but figured it was probably only for the good publicity.

"I'm Dr. Barker," I said impatiently, since I really wanted to go to my meeting with Edward. "Listen, is this going to take long -"

"I just told Mr. Wayne what a wonderful addition to our team you've been!" Sharp exclaimed with a wide, proud grin.

"Well, thank you, that's very kind, but -"

"And now that Mr. Wayne has asked me if someone could show him around the Asylum, I immediately thought of you!"

"That's very flattering, but I really don't have time to -"

"Well fine, fine!" The Warden patted me on the back and then left without any further explanation,

I sighed heavily. "I'm very sorry Mr. Wayne, but I should be conducting a therapy session right now, I really don't have time to show you around."

"Please, call me Bruce, and honestly, I'd love to join you in that session, if you let me."

This was surprising and surprisingly rude. I was so taken aback that he shot me a disarming and reassuring smile, trying to get me to agree.

As if I even had a choice in the matter unless I wanted to get fired.

"I guess it's okay if my patient agrees. Please, wait here." Politely I left him standing outside and went to Edward, inwardly rolling my eyes and gnashing my teeth at the impolite playboy.

"Edward, do you mind if I bring a friend of mine into therapy today?" I asked him as happily as I always tried to be and he gave me an interested glance, raising his eyebrows.

I waved Bruce in through the small window next to the door. "Edward, this right here is Bruce Wayne."

Bruce nodded to Edward, but he responded only with a hostile glare and I could tell that today wasn't going to be easy; Edward was closing down already. This had been a bad idea.

"Riddle me this, doctor. If you -" "No riddles today, Ed, you know the rule. I'm sorry. But we can continue where we broke off the last time. You can tell me about college, if you want to."

Jesus, I just wanted to get the one peaceful, nice session I had looked forward to for so long, so why did people have to keep on spoiling it? I was sure I could do this now, the way I wanted to do it, if Edward could just get a grip and be nice for once, but no, he had to cross his arms stubbornly and stare at the table in front of him like a child throwing a tantrum.

"When is it dangerous to play cards, doctor?"

"No riddles, Edward, I told you already," I sighed and gave him a reproachful look, but he simply waved me closer to him as if he wanted to tell me a secret.

I leaned in a little and he softly whispered into my ear: "When the Joker is wild."

He moved back, scanning my wide-eyed, surprised face and giving me a look of achievement. Shocked, I only managed to mutter: "What do you mean by that, Edward? What do you know about the Joker?"

He shrugged his shoulders coldly, then shook his head at me, getting up from his seat. "I told you that you should take some time off, doc. I told you!"

Bruce was quickly at my side to help me if necessary, but I gestured him to stay back.

"I TOLD YOU! WHY DON'T YOU LISTEN!" He screamed and now the guards were rushing towards him, holding him.

"I'm sorry, Edward." I tried to calm him. "Please, just settle down, we can talk about everything."

But he wasn't settling down. With a cold, hateful look at Bruce, he ripped his right hand free and banged his fist on the table. "And you think you're helping her, are you? Nobody can help you now, doctor! JUST GET OUT! GET OUT!"

The guards secured him eventually, dragging him into the hallway, followed closely by me and Bruce.

"Edward, Edward, please!" Even when he was already in the Patient Pacification Chamber, screaming and kicking the guards, I still tried to talk to him.

Tears sprung to my eyes; he seemed so hurt, really genuinely hurt by my apparent mistake.

"Come on, there's no use." Bruce took a soft hold of my arm and gently pulled me back.

"No, you don't understand!" I tried to explain, trying to wriggle out of his grip, but he quietly led me away from Ed's screams and towards the elevator.

"Does he have these anger fits regularly?" he asked, trying to distract me from my thoughts. "He hates it when you don't answer his riddles, doesn't he?"

I covered my eyes with my hand, taking a moment to get myself together again. "I'm afraid it's not that easy."

Bruce gave me an encouraging smile and helped me into the elevator.

"He'll loose his respect if I get to many riddles wrong, but he'll get jealous if I get to many right," I explained. "Plus these tantrums... Well, he has a bad temper, but it hasn't been like this since... since... since the last time he met Batman."

I was still baffled by what had just happened. "I remember the time 'The Riddler' was turned in. You should have seen the anger fit that he had back then."

"I'm glad I haven't, doctor," answered Bruce with yet another attractive smile that showed off his high cheekbones. "You're on a first-name-basis with the Riddler, then?"

"I can't really address him as Mr. Riddler all the time, can I?"

He nodded and laughed. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Do you talk this friendly to all the prisoners?"

"Please, Bruce, I'd rather refer to them as patients. Or inmates, if you must." I didn't like his pejorative way, it made me slightly defensive. "And yes, I always try to be as polite as possible, and some patients decide that they want me to call them by their first names. Nothing wrong with that."

"No, no, of course not. I... I didn't mean to offend you."

"Funny," I frowned. "You remind me of someone that said the exact same thing to me yesterday."

"Is that so?" He inquired curiously.

"Batman," I explained and then laughed at him gnashing his perfectly white teeth. "I guess you're not a fan then, huh?"

He shook his head. "I don't take kindly to vigilantes."

"Well, you can't deny that he's admirable," I objected and shrugged my shoulders hesitantly. "A man who sacrifices his personal peace, his life, just to spend his nights fighting crime?"

"A man who breaks the law in order to fight criminals? Isn't that a bit of a double standard?" Bruce argued and tilted his head.

"Some rules are made to be broken, don't you think so? Plus, as a psychologist, I can't help but be fascinated by a man who tortures himself like this. I mean, what has he done, what has been done to him to make him believe that he must carry this burden?"

Bruce stared down at his feet almost timidly before he looked me in the eyes again, with a smug grin on his face. "Is it more than a professional interest, doctor?"

I blushed against my will and cleared my throat. "I'm sorry, Bruce, but this is not the right kind of conversation for a workplace."

"You're right, you're right," he agreed. "I like it when someone is able to distinguish clearly between work and privacy."

We were quiet for a while when we waited for the elevator to arrive at the ground floor, where I wanted to show Bruce the more harmless side of Arkham Asylum.

"So, when should I pick you up?" He asked out of the blue and I looked up at him in surprise. "What?"

"Tonight, when should I pick you up?"

What on earth was he talking about? The wheels in my head started rewinding the conversation - when exactly had he asked me out? "Sorry, Bruce, I must have missed something. Why would you pick me up?"

"Well you said it wasn't a workplace conversation, so I guess I'll have to take you out for dinner then, right?" He smiled at me confidently; it wasn't even a question for him.

I went red again, feeling terribly embarrassed and staring at my feet while exiting the elevator. I wasn't exactly a shy personality, I could actually even be bold if I needed to, but a girl like me wasn't wooed by man as good-looking as Bruce Wayne every day.

"Do you like Italian food?" He asked persuasively and I was at a loss of words. "I... I... Y-Yes I do, but Bruce, you really don't have to, I-"

"No, I insist." Disarmingly he beamed at me, a smile I just could not resist and so I gave in.

I was about to tell him my address, when we were suddenly interrupted by a ear-piercing, irritating alarm.

Everybody in the hallway looked up in surprise, but nobody seemed to know what was going on.

"Attention all Arkham personnel. Please report to the security station in Arkham North! This is not a drill, repeat: This is not a drill!"

"What the hell?" I spun around to see what was happening - I'm not the smartest person under pressure - and fiercely grabbed an orderly that was running past us.

He looked at me with fearful eyes and had to catch his breath before he could speak. "It's the prisoners from Blackgate!" He managed to cry out. "They're starting a riot!" Then he tore himself free of my grip and hurried on.

"Bruce, listen, you should probably leave as fast as you can, okay? I think -" I turned to look at Bruce, but he was gone. I turned around further and further until I was back where I had been - no Bruce. Had he - no, he couldn't possibly have left - could he?

I turned around a second time. "Bruce? Bruce! BRUCE!" Men? What cowards! I couldn't believe it; stunned, I shook my head.

He had seemed so nice, so intelligent, so funny, so not like a guy who'd just disappear and leave me alone in the middle of a freaking catastrophe! But as the screamind around me got louder, I decided it wasn't quite the right time to contemplate my taste in men; I hastily had to get myself somewhere I could be more useful.

Stumbling I made my way down the corridor and into the last room to the left, where a considerable group of people were already crammed in, some of them composed, others obviously panicking.

"What do you think is happening right now?" A guard asked me nervously which made me a little concerned, at least, this was an anxious _guard_.

"I don't even want to know what's happening, I just want to go and put down that rebellion," another guard said more confidently, but even this ceased to calm me.

There was crying in the background, and someone was on the phone, frantically talking to the police.

More and more people came into the Secure Zone, especially officers that gathered around Aaron Cash, one of the best and most pleasant guards we had. Soon, the room was full and it looked like no more safeguards would fit in.

"All right! All security personnel follow me! We're going to teach these prisoners a lesson! They don't stand a chance!" They left, cheering and wielding their weapons like mindless zombies. Sometimes I thought of how Zsasz was actually right with his theories.

But then again, the prisoners weren't really too smart either. I mean, we had security stations with lots and lots of guns all over Arkham North, we had plenty of armed guards, we had medical staff that had been obligated to take self-defence-courses, the probability of them managing to break out was tiny!

By now, the whole security staff was probably in here, and this was some of the best trained security staff of the whole country, so what did the Blackgates want to achieve? They could _never _break out of the Asylum, so they wouldn't accomplish anyth - my train of thought was suddenly interrupted by a small little idea surfacing in my slow, stupid brain.

What if they didn't even _want _to break out? What if this wasn't an escape plan, but something completely different? If even Aaron Cash was in the North facility...

Then it hit me. The Arkham West was by now almost totally deserted! The criminals in the separate holding cells were as good as unguarded!

This wasn't a revolt, they were merely trying to distract us from the real trouble!

"Of course!" I yelled out. How come I'd been so stupid? How come _everyone _had been so stupid?

"This is only a distraction! They're not trying to get away, they're just trying to keep us occupied while the real villains from the Extreme Incarceration flee!"

The orderlies starred at me taken aback, but then they seemed to realise and panicked even more.

"What are you waiting for?" I shouted. "Do something! We're almost thirty people, they're only five!"

"Yeah sure, let's go and throw ourselves in their way, like that we'll surely die!" Someone yelled angrily.

"We're save in here! I say we stay and barricade ourselves in until they've left!" Most of the people nodded and shouted in agreement.

"And let innocent people die?" I asked feverishly; I couldn't believe it.

"When these criminals get out, they're going to steal again, they're going to rob again and they're going to kill again! We can't just let them walk out of here like there's nothing wrong with it!"

"Well then, you go out and fight them!" I felt somebody shove me towards the door; again, the crowd shouted their approval.

"Fine! I hope you can live with yourselves, knowing that you're to blame for every life they take!"

I grabbed a small pistol out of the open firearm-board and pushed myself out the door, giving them all an enraged last look.

It was people like this that should be in prison. People that were cowards and cruel and utterly despicable, not people that were just thinking differently than the rest of the world.

Running to the courtyard I cursed my stubborn guts. I had no idea whatsoever how to fire a gun, how to aim, how to reload, how to do anything than hit my enemy over the head with it! What was I doing? Why couldn't I just act quiet and keep my head down like everyone else?

I saw myself rushing past in the hallway mirror, and it reminded me of yesterday afternoon, when I had looked at my reflection before all of this had happened. It seemed like ages ago now, so far, far in the past that it didn't even seem real anymore; just a blurry daydream-memory, nothing more. I tried to grasp the fact that this might be the last time that I looked into these hard, tired olive green eyes; I tried to acknowledge that the odds were definitely against me.

Determined to not give up, I struggled with the wish to just go back and attempted to regain control over my fluttering heart and my vanishing courage.

The I finally arrived at the door of Arkham West and hurried inside before I could change my mind, only to bump into a hard, big something.

Dumbfounded I raised my gaze and instantly jumped back; it was the Joker in all his glory.

Uncuffed and free he stared at me just as surprised as I was, but then quickly regained his smile. I Shakily lifted my pistol and pointed it at him; tears started to burn in my eyes and my voice trembled.

"D-d-don't kill me!" I stuttered and hated myself for it. "I mean, I've... I've got a gun! Go back to your cell or I'll... I'll shoot you!"

To emphasize my words, I put on my angriest glare and held my weapon a little more confidently, trying to aim well. If I had to shoot him, I'd better make it deadly.

"Umm.. I don't think so, beautiful. You see," he tilted his head to the side and carefully took a step towards me, eyeing my gun and licking his lips nervously. "I wanna get outta here _real bad_."

When he grinned he revealed something that once had been beautiful, cute dimples on his cheeks where the scars were now. He must have been a adorable child.

"And you know what?" He asked, taking another slow step in my direction. "You're gonna help me!"

Suddenly, before I knew it, he grabbed my arm and spun me around, holding me tightly against his chest.

He had unarmed me in just a second and now roughly pressed the gun against my right temple. Frozen stock-still, I felt my heart skip a few beats when the cold metal touched my skin and the tears started to stream out of my eyes while I instinctively turned my head to face away from the weapon.

"Ah, ah, ah." Mumbled the Joker with his mouth right next to my ear. His face was only inches from mine now that I was forced to look his way, and I could feel the warmth radiating off his skin, his heartbeat against my back much slower than mine.

He examined me closely, and if my life hadn't been in danger, I would have been overwhelmed by his breathtaking caramel eyes. His look was almost loving, and softly he gave me a small peck on the skin right next to my ear before slowly raising his free hand and very gently stroking my cheeks, removing the tears.

I was close to actually tilting my head to be even closer to him, but then realised what I was doing.

"Stop!" I whimpered and pulled myself away from his fingers angrily.

Of course I was also angry at him, at least I had trusted him an itsy bitsy tiny microscopic little bit - No, I hadn't. Had I? - and now he had a gun pointed at me, but I was even angrier at myself because I actually enjoyed his touch.

He grinned evilly. "What, don't ya trust me?" "About as far as I can throw you!" I spit out, regaining some of my courage.

"Ah ha ha ha ha!" He laughed loudly right into my ear. "Ooh, feisty! I love that in a woman!"

"Hey, clown-boy! Are you going to get us out of here or what?" I could hear someone shout and with a last glance at me, that seemed like he was literally savouring the look of my face, Joker turned around.

"Coming!" With me still held close in his arms he staggered back down the hallway and to my horror, headed to Crane's cell.

"No! No! No!" I protested. "You can't let him out! Please, don't!"

"I don't think she likes you, pretty boy!" He snickered to Crane, who just let out a indifferent grunt.

Suddenly the Joker put his hand to my chest, making me squeal in shock. "Sorry, doc." He moved his hand from my chest to my left hip and then to my right hip; now I understood that he was only searching for my keys. "Gotcha!"

Swiftly he opened Crane's cell and the dazzling asshole promenaded out of it like a king.

"Nice doing business with you," he thanked the Joker and then gave me an arrogant, big-headed smirk.

They continued freeing the other inmates one by one, while I kept myself close to the Joker at all times. He might be a psychopath, but at least he was a psychopath that saw some value in my continued existence, unlike Crane or some of the other super villains.

Secretly I hoped that someone had for once taken me seriously and thought of locking the Arkham West exit door, even if that meant that I was trapped in here with all these criminals.


	4. Nice job breaking it, hero!

Jesus, this chapter really put up a fight! I'm sorry I'm late, but it was so hard! Writing it was not the problem but then reading and re-writing and correcting it, I just couldn't finish and even now I'm still not pleased with it. I'll make it up with chapter 5 and 6 (6 is going to be a big one). Thanks for your reviews, you rock!

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"Everybody get down! Now!"

Joker fired a warning shot into the ceiling and the staff screamed in unison, dropping to their knees almost immediately. As Crane pulled me through the room with his iron grip on my arm - now it was him pointing the gun at me - I couldn't help but inwardly roll my eyes. Whatever happened to "We don't negotiate with terrorists"?

Joker on the other hand seemed more than pleased with my co-workers' obedience, grinning at me as I tried to slowly inch away from Crane. "You know, you could really learn something from your colleagues, doc," he chuckled.

The other criminals started yanking open gun safes and taking out fire arms, and then pushed and dragged the staff to the back of the room, where they were forced to pass by me and Crane, shooting me dirty looks and whispering insults under their breath. One particularly angry looking orderly spit on the floor next to me and then furiously barked: "How could you do this to us?"

Slightly confused I looked over at my wrist which was white under Crane's hand and started to bruise already, then at the gun he held - did I really give the impression to do this willingly?Of course, I could understand his anger somehow. After all, it was my fault that Joker now had his hands on weapons, I had brought him a gun and then helped him into the security station letting him force me - at gunpoint - to walk up to the reinforced steel door and beg them to let me in. As soon as they had unlocked it, he had run to me, wrapping me in his arms and pointing the gun at my head again.

"Open up the other cells," Joker said, throwing some keys to Crane and therefore getting him away from me finally. "And then lock them in." He pointed at the orderlies and psychologists with his pistol uninterestedly and bended over a board, grabbing a knife and eyeing it closely.

"And what about her?" Crane asked, still holding my arm and eyeing me suspiciously.

"What's it to you?" Joker snarled aggressively and tilted his head to the side. "I'll do whatever I want with her." Now that sounded a little scary. I frowned at him with a worried look, pushing myself closer to the wall.

"That's what you get for being a hero, bitch!" the orderly from before spat out spitefully, and even though for me, he was only another asshole trying to ruin my day, Joker didn't let it go that easily.

"What did you just say?" He asked, turning to the source of the call, and gripped his new knife so tightly that his gloved knuckles must have gone white from the pressure; swiftly he strode to the man and grabbed his throat. Needless to say, the man - in his mid-thirties and almost bald - didn't answer him, but cringed in pain and fear. The Joker obviously enjoyed the terror in the man's eyes and smacked his lips ecstatically.

"Wanna know how I got these scars?" He asked, and the man tried to wriggle out of his grip. "I worked at this fancy politician's office once, when I was still young... and... pretty."

At that comment, I once again noticed his astonishing looks. He grinned, noticing my admiring stares and I could have sworn that for half a second, his gaze flickered to me. That marvellous sparkle in his eyes that made my knees feel like rubber, had it always been there?

"I was just like everybody else there, working in my little cubicle for days and days and days _and days_..." He moved his head in a little circle and pressed the words through his locked teeth. "And my boss was just like you. A fool... and... a coward." Emphasizing every word, he raised his knife and took it to the man's lips. The poor guy trembled in fright.

"And when a mobster decided to come and abduct him, you know what that fat pig did? He locked himself in his office. And you know what they did to make him come out?" Joker moved his free hand to his cheeks, softly stroking over the mutilated skin.

"You know, now I can laugh about it. Because now, I don't have to be like everybody else ever again!" I gave a little pitiful smile, even though that was probably not what he wanted. It was funny though somehow. Ironic.

But what happened next was not funny at all, not even remotely funny; in fact, it was as unfunny as it gets. Joker put the blade into the man's mouth. "Stop!" I exclaimed, trying to go and stop him, but it was to late; the man fell to the ground with a muffled thump.

"He didn't do anything to you!" My eyes stung with tears and I turned my head away from the body.

Crane and the others that seemed to have been frozen in their place suddenly remembered what they were supposed to do, forcing the staff out of the room. There were sounds of people crying now, and when before it wouldn't have touched me, I could no longer manage to feel unmoved. What had been so bizarre, so dreamlike before had all of a sudden moved into a whole other perspective with the pointless death of a not responsible, possibly nice stranger; things had turned real, and really dangerous too.

I didn't really feel like being alone with Joker anymore, and when Crane had pushed everybody out and was about to leave himself, a feeling of worry crept up to me, but I didn't know how to get myself out of this.

When the door had been closed, it was silent for a while. The clown seemed occupied with the blueprints of the asylum and the plans of the surrounding Gotham Narrows that were pinned to the walls, I tried to push myself closer to the corpse and took off my dark blue suit jacket, letting it fall on the dead man's upper body without coming to close to him.

I hated that jacket anyway, I told myself as a strange form of comfort.

Shakily I dropped on a nearby chair, wrapped my arms around my naked shoulders to keep warm and tried not to think of the fact that I was in a room with a corpse. Don't think about the words "rotting". "Worms". "Decompose". "Flesh".

Luckily, Joker distracted me from my thoughts before they could really get to me by yelling: "Hey, doc!"

I gave him a weak grin and shrugged my shoulders: "No need for that formality now, is there? Call me Valentina. Do you have a real name or should I just call you Clown-Boy, too?"

Yeah, you might call me slightly stupid, bold or suicidal, but really I was just a little too weary and a little too desperate to see much added value by being politely scared like I had been before. And Joker didn't seem to mind judging from the soft, calm look he gave me before he took a step towards me, glimpsing up from underneath his long, green curls almost shyly.

"Do you know how many batmen it takes to change a light-bulb?" he asked quietly and held out one arm to help me up from the seat; I shook my head.

"None! They like the dark!"

Now a silent chuckle escaped me, just tension being released, and slowly I brought my hand to his; at first, he squeezed it gently, but then suddenly pulled me off the chair. "Come 'ere."

With a small shriek I stumbled right into his arms. He held me for a second, securing me so I could regain my composure before he yanked me over to the door so roughly I was sure I would get bruises.

"Couldn't you please be just a little more temper consistent?" I quietly mumbled to him. "I'm really not in the mood for this right now."

"Oh, that wouldn't be very funny then, would it?" He asked, giggling while he dragged me out the door and down the hallway, but nevertheless he softened his grip and the sharp pain in my wrist lessened.

Through the emergency exit Joker brought me into Arkham East; everywhere I looked, the inmates had taken control and the staff was being locked into the free cells instead.

"Ah, this is it!" Joker pulled me around and pushed me into Warden Sharp's office, where he tucked me into a seat, holding a paper in front of me. "Read," he commanded.

"What?" I lifted the note, read it over and frowned. "You must be joking."

I could hear the sound of metal against clothing and felt the tip of his knife scratch the skin of my back through my shirt. "All right, all right! I'm doing it," I quickly agreed and moved a little closer to the microphone.

"Attention Gotham Police! This Asylum is now under the control of the glorious and unique clown prince of crime," I read out and heard Joker's dark chuckle somewhere behind me and grimaced.

"He wants to let you know that he can and will kill every single hostage if you don't do exactly as he says!" A warm hand in a purple leather glove was laid onto my shoulder, telling me to wait.

After a while - of negotiations, surely - I could hear a voice calling through a megaphone: "This is Commissioner Gillian Loeb speaking. Who are you and what do you want?"

I looked up at the Joker questioningly and he motioned me to go on. "My name is doctor Valentina Barker and I am one of the hostages." My voice trembled audibly when I turned back to reading the text.

"Oh come on, you can't be -" I started when I had read the sentence, but once again, the knife touched my back, so I continued.

"FINE! Why did Batman's date go badly? Because he had BAT breath!" Joker cracked up behind me and his laughing fit went on for a good five minutes before I finally could continue: "Joker wants you to hand over Batman."

Again, there was silence. "Dr. Barker, is there any other way this can be settled?" Loeb asked hopefully, but Joker pushed my head away from the microphone before I could answer. "No such luck, commissioner! Give me the Bat or else..." He beamed cheerfully, smacking his lips; as he moved back, his knife left my skin for a second, and I saw a chance I needed to seize."Don't do it, commissioner!" I yelled into the microphone. "He'll do what he wants anyway, there's no use - AHHHH!" An excruciating pain in my back as the knife cut it through the fabric, as the skin opened and the flesh parted for the metal blade, followed by a sharp burn.

I fell of the chair onto the ground and lying sprawled upon the dirty carpet, I followed my first instinct - trying to touch the spot that hurt - but immediately let out a small cry when it only opened the wound up further.

Tears shot into my eyes and I tried to hold still while carefully exploring the damage. Joker was already behind me, pulling me to him and thereby tucking my arms down to my side, he dropped the bloody knife into my lap; he raised a hand slowly and pulled a hair strand from my face. I could feel my blouse turning wet, cold and heavy due to the blood; looking up at him I shivered.

"You look tense, doc," he smirked. "Is it the scars?" It's because you're threatening my life, I wanted to say, but instead I just pushed myself closer into his shirt; I had never before noticed that he smelled this nice, like gunpowder mixed with something that I couldn't really say what it was. Roses maybe, I loved roses.

He wrapped his arms around me closer, tightly gripped my hands which uselessly hung mid-air and then softly helping me to my feet and leading me through the room. "Let's see."

I followed him mindlessly, trying hard to keep my back steady so I didn't make matters worse, but when I actually saw the cut in the mirror, I couldn't help but be surprised at how much such a small injury could hurt.

"You didn't think I'd really hurt you now, did you?" Joker chuckled and then left me alone while I tenderly fingered the wound, stretching my skin a little here and there. I would have to be more careful, I told myself. He might not want to see me dead, but he was no sweet kindergarten-teacher either and he wasn't scared to do what it took so I would obey.

I wrapped some bandages around my upper body, then silently stared at my reflection a little more as I thought of what to do. "Are you going to let me go now?" I mumbled anxiously, not looking at him directly.

"Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps." It sounded like purr-haps, coming out of his mouth, and when I looked away from the mirror, I could see him stare at my now visible belly with his dark, desire-ridden eyes. "If you... pay the price."

My eyes widened in fear when I realized what he meant, and quickly covering myself with my blouse, I pressed out through clenched teeth: "I have absolutely nothing of value."

"Oh, I think you do." Once again he broke out into mad laughter, but now it was more scary than annoying. When he was done, he walked over to me, licking his lips slowly. "I'm sure we can work out something you can, uh, _give _me."

"What?" I snapped at that - I didn't care how powerful he was, my pride didn't allow me to pretend I wanted to have sex with him just to get myself out of this.

"It's called pardon, pumpkin pie, haven't you ever learned any manners?" He beamed at me, then shook his head like I was being totally absurd. "Plus, I don't, eh, need to force girls to do _that _for me." He pulled one hand through his long, green locks. "I'm quite a - hi, hi, hi - looker, don't you think?"

I was actually too relieved to be frustrated by his stupid jokes, and so I just gave a soft sigh and concentrated on getting myself together. "What do you want from me then? I told you, I don't have anything on me."

"There's a safe somewhere in this building, and it contains some files that are pretty important to me." "What kind of files?" I asked curiously. "I'm not going to help you with your evil plans, Joker." It wasn't the truth and he knew it. I had helped enough already, it didn't matter if I did even more.

"Oh no, no, no evil plans, not at all," he assured me smirking like a Cheshire cat. "Just some... boring paperwork."

I frowned at him, insisting: "Why would they keep paperwork in a safe if it were that boring?"

But he didn't answer me since he seemed to have lost interest, strolling to the door. "You can, eh, visit me when you've got my information." He smacked his lips gleefully once again and winked at me before pirouetting out of the office, leaving me to stare after him unbelievingly.

Men!


	5. Joke's on me

AN: Yes, I know, you've had to wait for soooo long, and I'm really, really sorry, but I hope you can understand when I said real life just got in the way. I had my graduation exams, I met people, my class and I took a holiday together and so on. However, I have some really great links for you all, in case you ever have to much time on your hands:

Edit: won't allow me to post the links just like that, of course. I'll do it the difficult way then.

http:/ whysoserious. com - something serious (click through the Joker's to-do-list or see Gotham's business' websites)

www. arkhamcare. com - something smart (try to get through the employee login.. there are some nice surprises if you're able to solve all the riddles...)

www. fanpop. com/spots/the-joker-and-harley-quinn/images/9862084/title/joker-harley-photo - something sweet

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"Valentina?" Rob probably meant to say it as a whisper, but it came out as a choked sigh. "Shh," I told him, looking nervously from side to side. "Listen, I don't have much time -"

"Val, you need to get out of here now," he said, gripping the metal bars that separated us. "Or else they're going to put you in one of these cells as well."

"Don't worry, Rob, I've got it figured out," I tried to calm him. "But right now I need your help. Do you know if there are any files in the Asylum, anything the Warden wouldn't want us to know about?"

"What do you mean you've got it figured out?" He cried out at an alarming volume.

"Jesus, Rob, keep it down!" I warned him, once again looking around in fear. "I can't explain it now, but I'll tell you as soon as it's time. Now tell me, where would he keep something important?"

Rob shook his head, avoided my gaze and bit his lip. Then he took my hands trough the bars and stepped a little closer: "Try the basement. And Val, please, please be careful."

I nodded to him and put my hand up to softly touch his cheek. "Don't worry. I'll be alright."

I stepped back into the shadows behind me just in time to avoid the footsteps closing in.

* * *

As I made my way down to the basement - which was more like a bunch of catacombs - I couldn't help but wonder about Bruce. Did he get out? Was he safe? Did he even think twice before leaving me alone?

I pushed the thoughts out of my head and tried to focus on the task ahead, which was, fortunately, not quite as hard as expected, since the long corridor down here were deserted and I could wander through it without having to worry about thugs.

So now, I tried to stay in the middle of the hallway, directly under the weak neon-lights and not to close to the dark, scary corners. The ceiling was barely high enough for me not to hit my head on, and the grey walls were hardly ever interrupted by doors, which made me a little nervous about finding the safe in time.

Not only the look of this floor was unusual, even the layout was totally different from the others; not several corridors with cells on either side of them, just one long line and these doors, these stupid random doors with numbers on them.

I was starting to doubt if I'd really find the safe this easily, but that was before I saw the very last room, right at the end of the corridor, with a much bigger and more secure looking door. Figured they wouldn't just keep their safes in an old closet.

There were locks and bolts all over the door, and of course, it was shut firm and tight, with no chance of getting it open without a key and a code from the outside. With a shy knock I tried to see if anyone was inside, then kicked it out of frustration. All it did was hurt my foot.

"Today's my lucky day," I mumbled and started to look around for anything I could use to get in.

An old and somewhat dusty fire extinguisher caught my eye, so I picked it up and weighed it in my hand; even though it felt empty, it was probably heavy enough to do some damage.

I had seen enough movies to have a general idea of how to go about this, so I positioned myself the way I imagined right, with my legs spread and my knees bent and got ready to strike. "One," I started, taking a deep breath. "Two. Three!"

Right when I was about to smash the extinguisher into the security door, - "Doctor Barker?"

The voice came so suddenly I let out a scream of surprise and dropped the extinguisher, letting it fall to the floor with a loud bang.

I stared at the Warden, who had opened the door from the inside, his face right where I would have hit the door. "Sharp?" I shrieked, half surprised, half angry. "I could have smashed your face in! Jesus!"

"Shh! Keep it down, would you?" He looked to both sides with a worried expression. What? He had the nerve to tell me to keep it down? Furiously I stomped up to him. "You! You're hiding down here while your employees hover between life and death upstairs!"

He frowned at me like I was an inmate, not a doctor. Like I had obviously lost my mind. "Of course I'm hiding! Don't you know how important I am? If the criminals kill me, our reputation will be damaged forever!""Our reputation?" I cried out. "There are people being killed right now! Right! Now!" I pushed past him and into the security station; I could hear him hurrying after me.

"What are you doing? You're not supposed to go in there, Barker!" See if I cared.

"Give me the combination to that safe!" I ordered him when I had seen it stand in a corner.

"What?" He objected with a nervous screech. "Why would I do that? The files in there are top secret!"

This was it. I had reached my boiling point, crossed the room in one stride, one hand on the Warden's throat, ramming the fat pig into the wall.

"Listen to me! All this madness can be stopped right this very moment if you just tell me the combination to that safe! So do it, now!" I yelled, choking him a little bit just to make him know how serious I was. When he still didn't answer, I let go of him with a sickly sweet smile. "Well, if you prefer, I suppose I could go upstairs and ask my friends to come down here and talk to you."

Comprehension started to show in his eyes, and he stuttered: "I-I... I'll get you fired!"

I snickered, turning back to the safe. "I highly doubt that. Unless, of course, you want everyone to know how you put your own life over the lives of your employees."

He glared at me and set his jaw in silent, but ineffective protest. "4-2-3." "See, was that really that hard, Sharpie?" I laughed and opened the safe quickly.

Thinking back now, I have to admit I was more than cheeky, but I guess it was a spur of the moment thing. After having faced Joker, Scarecrow and various smaller thugs, the idea of getting fired was just not very intimidating.

"You're just as bad as those thugs up there," I heard Sharp mumble as I looked through the safe, and it felt like a small stab at my heart. I knew he was right, even back then, but I didn't want to face it. I told myself I was dealing with homicidal maniacs, after all, I couldn't afford guilt.

There were only a few documents in the safe, so I took them all and - with a last frown at the Warden - walked out of the room. Sure, I still felt somewhat remorseful, but I assumed that I didn't have much of a choice.

I strode up the stairs hurriedly. Maybe the Joker would let Rob and me go now; on the other hand, I didn't even know if I wanted him to. I mean, of course I wanted to go home and of course I wanted to be safe, but it probably meant never seeing the Joker again.

I was too lost in thought when I reached ground floor, and accidentally knocked over an umbrella stand which then hit the floor noisily. Shocked, I jumped and shrieked and almost immediately heard heavy, loud footsteps coming closer."Fuck!" I cursed under my breath and looked around for a hiding spot, but it was too late.

A gang of thugs - about 4 of them - had spotted me and approached quickly. With a leap backwards I started to run down the stairs again, without even knowing where I was going. Frantically I looked around for anything that could help me, and in my panic, I fell over my own feet and hit the concrete floor hard, grazing my knees and elbows.

One of the gangsters, a small one, almost bald and pretty fat, seized my wrist and pulled me to my feet violently. "What have we here?" he chuckled and I could smell his terribly bad breath; instinctively, I pulled my head away from the stink, only to find another criminal coming closer to me from behind and squeezing my butt so violently it hurt."Stop it!" I cried out and tried to pull away, but they held me tightly. "I don't think so, sweetheart," one of them grinned and put his huge, nasty hand on my hip. "I think we're gonna have some fun with you!"

Somebody grabbed a handful of my hair, jerking my head backwards and sending a sharp sting through my scalp.

I saw the files I had carried fly down towards the ground and spread out across the floor. For some reason, this seemed awfully important to me. "Please," I begged. "Let me go! I'll give you money! I'll give you everything you want!"

The answer was a slap across my face, a hand sliding under my loose blouse and someone else feeling up my thigh; I felt disgusted and terrified. "Please! Please!" I whimpered, trying to pull away from all the touching, squeezing and pinching.

I closed my eyes in fright and tried to prepare for what would happen; I didn't want to see it, I really didn't. The Joker was in front of my inner eye. This was all his fault! I was small, fragile, weak - well, maybe not, but I couldn't defend myself at all! So why had he sent me down here? Why didn't I see this coming?

Someone pushed my skirt up and I tried to imagine somewhere else, somewhere nice and green, somewhere far, far away. I knew it could only be moments away from now until they did what was

inevitable, so while I was waiting for it to happen, for a hand to touch my most private parts - all of a sudden, the touching stopped completely.

Still petrified and still pinching my eyes together, I whimpered out of fear of what they might do next. It was only after a while that I managed to get out of my frozen grimace of fear and suspiciously looked around. The thugs had taken all a step away from me, staring down the corridor with expressions of surprise and insecurity on their faces.

"Edward!" I cried out and since nobody was holding me up anymore, my knees gave in and I slumped to the dirty floor. Ed gave me a pitiful look, but quickly concealed his worry, lifting the shotgun he was carrying.

"Riddle me this: Who gets shot if they lay one more finger on my property?" he stared at the gang with his most imposing look - which was only hardly threatening - and gripped his gun tightly. "Leave. Now."

Reluctantly, the men retreated, their leader giving me one last revolting look that made all my hair stand up straight before leaving into the shadows.

Edward hurried over to me, trying hard not to walk too fast so they wouldn't notice and protest. A couple of moments he just stared at me with his big golden-brown puppy eyes, almost incredulously, and seemed not only sorry, but also somewhat angry with me.

"Eddie," I whispered up to him. I really couldn't deal with that look right now. The sound of my voice seemed to sooth him, and he dropped to his knees at my side for a tight hug.

"Are you all right?" He asked, letting go of me and softly examining the red spots on my face and neck, looking at my bleeding lip. With a wet face covered in tears and blood, I nodded.

"Fine. Don't be scared." He helped me get up, and half-carried me down the corridor. I had never thought he was that strong.

The pain slowly subsided, but only because I was burying myself further and further in my mind. I had almost got raped! The truth, scary and unbelievably surreal, had put me out of the Asylum, because it just seemed so completely impossible - these things only happened to people in newspapers, not to me! By now, I felt like I was completely gone. I was in my special place, my beautiful, beautiful special place, where everything was still as it ought to be; nice, orderly, fair, rinsed and drained. I didn't even notice that there was still a constant stream of tears down my cheeks.

There were pitiful looks once the other doctors saw me, being held by the Riddler. I could hear them mumble and growl in the back, but their compassion didn't touch me at all. "You bastard!" Someone yelled while we pushed along the corridor, and someone actually extended an arm to hit Edward. "She cared for you! She trusted you!"

I swore I caught Ed flinch.

"I shouldn't have saved you," he muttered sulkily at my side. "I thought I had finally found my match, and yet you couldn't even solve the riddle about the Joker's breakout plan." He seemed genuinely offended. "And I gave you so many clues!"

I didn't feel like arguing this time, so I just kept staring at the ground as we wandered about seemingly pointless; the sounds and sights and smells of reality didn't spill into my world anymore, I was all alone.

I barely noticed how we headed back to the Intensive Treatment part of Arkham North where the gangsters had made their headquarters, the Joker sitting in their midst on some sort of a throne - made out of an office chair and a few scraps of fabric from the lounge sofas. He had found his purple suit somewhere and happily chatting to himself, he truly was shining in his old glory.

"Ah, doc! About time!" Joker called out grinning as soon as he saw us, but quickly his beam froze and turned into a scowl. "Oh, eh, didn't get my papers?"

I didn't bother screaming at him, about how this was his fault, about what had almost happened to me - about how I was genuinely hurt that he had noticed the missing papers but not my bloodied face?

Instead I just pressed myself along a wall and into a corner, where I could slide down to the ground in peaceful silence.

"In the future," Ed snarled and stomped up to Joker. "If you want to get something done, do it yourself, clown."

I was already too far gone to hear the Joker's response, crying and crying and crying until my eyelids felt like scratchy sandpaper scraping the dry surface of my eyes. I cried for the innocent man that had died at the Joker's hand. I cried for Bruce Wayne, who could just as well be dead for all I knew, a possible friend. I cried for myself, and I cried for Edward, trapped in this place forever, when from now on it would only get worse.

Somebody knelt down beside me and put his hand on my shoulder. I looked up and saw the Joker, of course. The one man that would always disturb my world.

I hadn't even realised I had been rocking myself until he stopped me. I wanted to hug him, just be held by his warm, strong arms, but I didn't even dare get any closer to him than he explicitly allowed me to.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled in between sobs, wiping away the tears with the back of my sleeve.

He didn't say it was okay; instead, he pulled a light purple handkerchief out his suit and offered it to me. I took hit and blew my nose audibly, which made him giggle.

"Wanna hear a joke?" he then asked, suddenly serious and with a rather deep voice. I nodded shyly while cleaning my face of mascara stains.

"What did the blind, deaf, mute, quadriplegic boy get for Christmas?"

I shrugged my shoulders and stifled a sniff, scooting back a little just in case he was going to do something stupid.

He gave me a grin, smacked his lips, stretched the silence, before answering himself: "Cancer."

I gave a weak chuckle and blew my nose again. When I took the handkerchief down, he had cocked his head and was giving me a surprised, almost inquisitive look. "What?" I mumbled.

"It's just that," he smacked his lips again, "people don't normally laugh at my jokes."

Unsure of how to behave now, I smiled sheepishly, somewhat apologetically too, before letting an awkward silence take place, until a big yawn escaped my mouth. All this trouble had drained me of all energy. "Can I leave now?" I asked him, and even though I knew it was dangerous here and that he was a wanted murderer, I wanted him to say no.

"Uhm," he smacked his lips and tried to give me a serious frown, but fell out of it seconds later by giggling nervously. "Didn't we, eh, have a deal here?" He stood up and pulled me to my legs too.

"It wasn't my fault that I couldn't bring your files!" I defended myself. "I had them already when your stupid henchmen decided to stop me!"

He shrugged his shoulders at me, strolling back to his chair. "You don't get things you want for free, pumpkin pie."

I yawned again and noticed that I had just cried in front of all the Joker's men. I was tired, but I didn't dare to go to sleep, I mean, who knew what I'd wake up to? Joker venom? Crane playing around with my mind? Edward - in a thong? I giggled at my own sleep-ridden thoughts, then yawned again.

Joker looked at me from where he was sitting, and frowned as if he was expecting a crazy outbreak from me. I giggled again at how it was exactly him that looked at me this way. When I didn't do anything but laugh, he apparently lost interest and motioned to another one of his big and silent thugs.

This one was tall and bony, a narrow frame and a narrow face with a long, crooked nose and wide slits for eyes that were kinda far apart but fitted rather nicely with the rest of his face. He had long dark brown hair and thin eyebrows and seemed overall very intelligent and sophisticated.

"Take her somewhere she can sleep," Joker told him. "Alone!" he quickly added.

I frowned at him, but then decided I hadn't much of a choice. Either I trusted Joker - which I knew I shouldn't, although he hadn't really given me any reason not to - or I fell asleep here in a room full of beefy, stupid, testosterone-filled gangsters.

We walked out of the room and into an empty therapy room at the end of the corridor; he unlocked the door and handed me the keys. Only minutes later I was fast asleep with the Joker on my mind and a content little smile on my lips.


	6. Detective

AN: So, I finally got to see Jack Nicholson as an uncannily sexy Joker and Cillian Murphy as Zombie killer in 28 days later. Both kind of scare the crap out of me, but I find them inexplicably hot.

Enjoy!

* * *

"Ma'am?" I looked up.

"I've brought you some coffee. There's milk and sugar in it already." The man placed the small cup in front of me on the hard, wooden table. "Thanks," I said and managed to fake a smile.

He stood there awkwardly for a moment, stiff and simply staring at me, before he remembered what to do and extended a hand. "Detective Matthew Gibson of the Gotham Police. Supercrime Department." I nodded silently.

Detective Gibson was a rather attractive man in his twenties. He had a straight, narrow, slightly pointed nose, thin lips and big, tired brown eyes with eyebrows a little bushy looking. His hair was kept very short and he wore a dark grey button down to a pair of simple brown jeans.

"So, how do you feel?" He shifted his weight from one foot to the other eagerly and flashed me a quick, nervous smile. "Okay, I guess", I mumbled and shivered under the woollen blanket that was wrapped around my shoulders.

"You don't need anything?" He seemed tense, stressed; he wanted answers from me and he didn't understand why I wouldn't give them. He was young and new to the job, he was still innocent, enthusiastic to help and naïve enough to wish for something to happen.

I sighed. "No, I'm fine." Finally, he took a seat and dropped the papers he was holding on the table.

"Well, then, why don't you tell us what happened when you woke up back at Arkham?"

"I already told your colleagues," I complained, sighed and pointed to the glass door where Detective Berg stood, whom I had explained it all to before. "I woke up to some loud noise outside, and when I went to see what it was, the Joker grabbed my hand and dragged me with him."

"And why exactly did he do that?" Gibson asked without as much as looking up from his notes, probably checking with my statements from before.

"Jesus, I don't know. Maybe he just wanted to take a hostage? If you go and talk to Detective Berg, I'm sure he'll -"

Defensively Gibson raised his hands, trying to calm me with a shrug. "Fine, fine, you don't know. What happened next?"

"He pulled me into another therapy room -" "With a broken window?" Gibson looked up curiously - he was getting on my nerves.

"Yes," I said with my last quota of patience, trying to make myself extra, extra clear. "There was a broken window -"

"Through which the Joker escaped?" "Yes." How could one man ask so many questions? I was tired, I was hungry, I felt like I had been here for ages and I really wanted to take a shower. Why was he bothering me with this stupid crap?

"And he tried to pull you through the window as well?" "Yes. Listen, Detective, I really don't see how this is of any import-" "Then Batman saved you?"

I grimaced, then exhaled loudly and nodded.

"By taking a hold of you wrist?"

I nodded again.

"And why, exactly, do you think he did that?"

I shot him a look that would have made a lesser man weep, clenched my fists under the table, but kept my voice down with some effort: "I suppose because saving is what Batman does. Can I please - please! - go home now?"

"I'm afraid that's not an option. We've still got a lot of questions to ask you, Ms. Barker."

"Dr. Barker," I corrected him with a grunt of frustration and was about to tell him all the ugly things I thought he was, starting with a prick and ending with - well I wasn't to sure if there was an end to that list; anyway, we were interrupted before I could start.

The door opened quietly, in it stood a clean-shaved, well-dressed man with a smug smile on his face.

Gibson's expression immediately turned into a bitter frown and the ambience in the room seemed to grow noticeably cooler. "Bruce Wayne," he remarked with clear, sharp resentment. "What are you doing here?"

"Detective," Bruce said, oblivious to Gibson's tone. "You won't be bothered too much if I steal Doctor Barker from you, will you?""Uhm..." Of course, now Gibson was lost for words, after not being able to shut his mouth before. "No, we still need to talk to her."

"I'm certain she's told you anything she knows already." I gave an eager nod. Bruce glanced at me from the corner of his eye and showed a brief smile at my impatience. "And I assure you I can vouch for every word she's said."

Still holding the door open, he nodded to me and I got up from my chair. Who even needed Gibson's permission?

"Thanks, Bruce," I said as soon as we were out of the room, and once again I felt the butterflies in my stomach when I looked up at his handsome face, but then I remembered how he had left me alone back in the Asylum and I wiped the stupid grin right off my lips.

"Good to see you're okay," he mumbled gently and put an arm around my shoulders to guide me to the exit, but I quickly shrugged it off. "It's not thanks to you that I'm okay," I mumbled bitterly and tried to catch his gaze,

He was quiet after that, so quiet and seemingly somewhat let down that I regretted saying it, although I knew I was right. "I'm sorry," he softly said. "I didn't mean to -"

"It's okay," I cut him off. "I shouldn't have mentioned it. It was probably the best thing to do in the situation."

He gave me a forced looking smile. "C'mon, I'll give you a lift." Then he opened his car door for me. "Or would you like to get a cup of coffee first?" Clumsily I got into his low Lamborghini and shook my head. "You're sweet, Bruce, but I just had about five cups in there. I'd rather just go home."

„Are you sure you want to be all alone right now?" he doubted. „Your past 24 hours weren't exactly normal. It wouldn't be unusual to want some company."

I chuckled. „Which one of us is the psychologist?" He laughed to, but on a more serious note I added: „This all still seems very unreal to me… And I don't really want to be around a lot of people right now."

He hesitated for a moment, then fastened his seat belt and started to drive. „I know a place where I can take you."

Wayne Manor was about the only nice building in Gotham. I had seen it often in photographs or newspaper articles, but in real life it's perfect beauty seemed almost bizarre, as if it were an old painting or a doll house instead of a real mansion.

What added to that was the fact that it was still being rebuilt after the unfortunate fire, and coated in access cover and dirt, the building looked strangely abandoned and depressing, and so very surreal.

"Alfred?" Bruce called when we had entered. It was dark outside already, and the light of the entrance hall was blinding to my eyes. A butler came towards us, old, grey haired and friendly looking, to help me out of my coat.

"Doctor Barker, I presume?" He said with a thick English accent. "There is some food prepared for you down in the kitchen, you must be dreadfully hungry." There was a smile of genuine compassion on his face, something I hadn't seen in my hours at the police station.

I hadn't even noticed how enormous my hunger really was until he mentioned it, and when we finally sat down at a table in the basement I felt like I was about to starve to death.

"I'm terribly sorry that you have to have your supper in here, Doctor Barker, but the dining hall is still under construction."

I looked around the big room completely covered in clean, white tiles, while stuffing some more bread into my mouth. "It really doesn't matter," I assured him for the hundredth time. "This kitchen is about as big as my entire apartment."

"You'll sleep upstairs in my bedroom," Bruce said. "The guestroom isn't ready yet."

"Oh no, Bruce, I couldn't!" I protested. "You've been so nice to me, I can't possible kick you out of your own bedroom too." I took another fork full of the scrambled eggs.

"Yes, you can," Bruce chuckled. "I insist."

"No, _I _insist," I answered him, imitating his mockingly raised eyebrows. "This is _your _house!"

"Exactly, and you are _my _guest!" He replied, still smiling, but sounding a little more resolute.

"Yes, your guest, not a thief that pushes you out of your bed!"

"Valentina, I'm perfectly capable of sleeping on the couch!"

"Well, so am I!"

We continued to stare each other down with determination, and we both knew the neither of us would back down. I blushed a little. The gaze of his light blue eyes on me and the thought of sleeping in his bed, even without him was enough to make my knees feel like jelly.

It was Alfred that stopped our argument by clearing his throat loudly. "I hope you don't mind, I'll go put another set of sheets into the master bedroom." We both stared after him as he walked out of the kitchen, and the tension subsided into comic relief.

Shortly before we decided to go to bed, the conversation turned into a passionate conversation about the Batman.

"It's not like he's causing the trouble, he's there because of it!" I tried to explain to him.

"Yes, fine, maybe we do really need him, but Gotham is still just as dangerous as it was before he showed up," Bruce argued.

"So? It's about time someone at least tried to do something against what's happening in this town!" I cried out. "I've lived in Gotham for most of my life, and I've seen the darkness as well as the light; and I know that ever since Batman is here, I can walk home alone at night and don't have to fear for my life. I can use the back streets all by myself! Jesus, Bruce, do you know how long it's been since I've done that?"

He gave me a small smile, and I feared that he was mocking my enthusiasm.

"It's just," I repeated in a softer, more controlled voice. "All good people wanted to give up. We all wanted to move away and leave Gotham with nothing but the desperate and the hopeless; let it go to hell. But Batman... Batman helped us. Finally we have somebody to give us the power and the will to fight for ourselves."

Bruce was still smiling, and I blushed deep red, staring at the table. "Well... it's just what I think, doesn't really matter if you hate him..." I mumbled and shrugged my shoulders. When I lifted my gaze, I saw him shaking his head.

"I couldn't hate him, Val. After all, he saved your life today." I almost objected there, saying that the Joker surely wouldn't have killed me, but I was able to keep it down and simply smile a stupid, sheepish smile.

"Thank you, Bruce," I whispered slowly, drawing circles on the dark wood of the table between us. "For, you know, everything."

I saw his hand entering my vision, coming closer and wrapping itself gently around mine; then his other hand touched my chin, lifted it, making me look at him. Staring into my eyes he moved his hand to cup my cheek.

For a second I thought he was going to kiss me, and I actually wanted him to kiss me.

I wanted to feel his soft, warm lips pressed tightly against mine, I wanted him to sweep me off my feet and hold me close to his warm chest like a baby, where I could smell the freshly-washed scent of his stiff shirt, I wanted him carry me upstairs to his bed and then simply cuddle me for eternity, loving me, forever.

This was what I needed now; love, warmth, somebody who looked after me and just made me feel secure again.

But he didn't. Of course, he didn't. He silently sighed and pulled his head away from me, let his hand fall down and leave my face.

I somehow - although barely - managed to swallow my protest and instead just lean back, too.

"Fine," I said, sounding as bitter as I felt. "I'll go to bed."

* * *

AN: The next chapter is supposed to be coming soon, it's when the fic starts to connect to the "Dark Knight" storyline. There's some strong Crane-romance coming up and then some plotdetails until I can finally reunite Val with her dear Joker.


	7. The Joker's Reign of Terror Begins

Chapter 8: The Joker's Reign of Terror begins

AN: I know, I know, I'm sorry! Thanks to everyone who still reviews no matter how terrible I am with uploading! You keep me going! Enjoy!

* * *

"I have to go, can't explain -" Scratch that.

"I'm sorry, but this is not what either of us -" Scratch that, too.

"I'm sorry, Bruce. There are people that need me. I'm sorry, honestly.

Val"

I left the note on the bedside table and felt like kicking myself for not finding any better words. Then I turned and looked down at Bruce's peacefully sleeping body, feeling the strong urge to bend down and kiss him on the cheek, but the fear of waking him up kept me from it.

Only a part of me really was sorry for leaving, but the rest - as bad as it sounds - just wanted to get away from Bruce as far as possible and never come back. If you know the feeling of being squeezed, hugged and pulled around by something completely out of your control, you know the rebellion and frustration that currently roared inside of me.

When I came into the entrance hall, I bumped into Alfred, who was carrying wine bottles down into the kitchen, and I stopped dead in my tracks like a child caught red-handed.

"Important business to attend to, Dr Barker?" he asked me with raised eyebrows and I almost cringed under his critical gaze; he reminded me so much of my father that it hurt.

"Sort of," I mumbled, blushing deep red. "As expected," he replied with a small nod of his head, and I hurried down the stairs towards him.

"Please, tell him not to be angry with me too much," I begged. "I'm sorry, really, but I need to do something. I can't just stand by and watch one mislead man ruin all I believe in."

A smile crept into his face and gently, he took my hand and patted it. "I can assure you, he'll understand that." I managed to produce a nervous smile, too. "I'm really sorry. I know it's not nice, but -" "Ms. Barker, in times like these it's not about what is nice," he told me. "In times like these only what's right is important."

He then eyed me, almost sad now, as if he knew something I didn't, but quickly checked himself. "Now, how about some breakfast before you go?"

And when I nervously glanced back at Bruce's bedroom door, he added: "Don't worry. Mr. Wayne rarely ever gets up before 10 o'clock."

It was quite a while later that I finally mounted the ferry to the Asylum, flicking through the pages of a newspaper to pass the time. There was something about an earthquake, politicians blaming each other for the Arkham outbreak, a statement by the Warden, and then, a picture that made my heart simply stop beating for a second, and then resume its work with an audibly loud thump.

Everything around me suddenly felt very, very distant, numb, boring and of absolutely no importance. Purple suit, green locks and widespread grin were everything I cared about.

"Joker robs mob bank."

I already knew, just by reading the title, I knew it all. The Joker was fine, he wasn't hurt and he hadn't been caught, which gave me mixed feelings; if he got caught, he would simply be brought back to the Asylum, but robbing a mob bank? He was stupid - or crazy - enough to risk his own life, so he obviously didn't care to keep his life, much less did he think about me, I concluded, getting out of the ferry and walking up to the Asylum; so what reasons did I have to do otherwise?

Things still looked quite chaotic when I entered through the main door; I could see Julian "Calendar Man" Day sit on the floor of the hallway looking about somewhat desperate, small shreds of calendar pages in his hands - and there was Lenny "The Eraser" Fiasco, standing in a corner trying to clean the footprints off the floor, and it took the united strength of four guards to get Humphry Dumpter back where he belonged.

Much to my dismay, Warden Sharp himself walked around, too, and seemed to be headed right in my direction; I was rather embarrassed now about my behaviour from yesterday, so I stared at the white, tiled floor and tried to shuffle past without him noticing.

But you already know my luck, so obviously, only seconds later he hollered: "Dr. Barker!" Only reluctantly I stopped to look up at him. His voice meant trouble. "Ye-Yeah?"

"You are over an hour late!" He reprimanded and stomped up to me. „I will not tolerate this unprofessional behaviour!"

This, I hadn't expected. I could have dealt with questions or even reprimanding, but not but not scolding for being late! Scolding for being late on a day I didn't even have to come to work!

Taken aback, I was silent for a moment, thinking of an appropriate response, but the Warden was too impatient. "I don't have time for your excuses!" he exclaimed. "But you'll work overtime for this!" Already hurrying off again, he left without as much as a friendly word for me.

Fortunately, after that, the day could only get better, despite the Asylum still being in a mess and most of my patients being rather disturbed by the things that had happened. I had lunch with Robert, making sure he was okay, listening to his rant of how he had tried to call me all night and how he had been oh so worried.

The real world still felt very distant to me at this point. All my problems and my worries had lost so much of their influence now that I had seen what could happen. It was also weird working with the inmates, too, now that I had seen how they were the second they were free, really actually seen it, not just heard it or read about it.

It was strange how everything got the volume turned down once you knew the other side. It would become normal again, I presumed, after a while of being back in my usual environment, but I didn't even know if I wanted that. I felt relaxed like never ever before.

The rest of the day went by quickly and even if there was any trouble, it didn't get to me in the least.

It was late at night already - at least midnight - when I was finally ready to leave and go home, having done the extra hours Sharp wanted me to, but then I met someone in the entrance hall, someone who made me snap right out of my happy trance.

It was Crane - or more like what was left of him - with two police men dragging him along since he did not seem able to walk by himself. "Crane?" I called out, pushing my bag into the hands of a security guard and ripping off my coat while I hurried towards him.

"We found him like this," one of the police men shouted over to me. "Looks like he got beat up pretty bad. Probably by the drug lords who bought and resold his 'drugs'." The man chuckled lightly, which put a dark frown to my face. "Didn't do their customers very good, apparently."

"Oh, Jesus!" I sighed, speeding my pace up to a sprint until I reached Crane, who looked even worse up close, only bloody pulp underneath a thick, dark patch of hair.

"Crane, who do you think you are, the therapist of the Gotham underworld?"

He looked up at me - his piercing blue eyes shone out even brighter from his face now that it was darkened with dried blood - and made an ugly grimace. It took me a few seconds to figure out that he was trying to give me a weak smile. His voice was hoarse and rough when he mumbled: "No, doc, I guess that's you."

I could hear footsteps behind me and turned to see Rob rushing towards us. "It's Crane," I told him, and when he did not understand I added: "Scarecrow. He sold hallucinogens to the mob." "What did you bring him here for?" Rob asked the police men while I kneeled down next to Crane to check his wounds. "He needs to go to the hospital! We're psychiatrists, not surgeons!"

One of the police men shrugged his shoulders. "If you're a psychiatrist, you studied medicine, right?" Rob was speechless for a second and I almost thought he was going to jump the guy; he wasn't the most sensitive person himself but leaving Crane here with all his injuries without someone to take care of him? That was just cruel.

"Listen, you can either leave him out here or you can take him inside," the police man snarled. "I honestly couldn't care less."

I pulled an arm around Crane's upper body and looked up at the security guard for help: "Mike, if you don't mind..."

"Oh, sure," he said, bent down and grabbed Crane from the other side; together we pulled him to his feet. "Maybe there's still someone left in the medical facility," I mumbled to myself. "You just hang in there, Crane."

We left Rob to argue with the police men alone while setting out to look for help. In the medical facility, we had an X-ray chamber, we had experimental drugs and pills, we could even do a complete brainwave scan if we wanted to, but such a simple thing as a needle and some bandages?

"Dr. Liew?" I managed to utter as we approached a bald man hunched over his writing desk. He looked up and immediately went wide-eyed when he saw Crane. "Please, we need your help," I explained, panting.

"I can see that," he answered and quickly got up to get a gurney for us, on which we laid Crane before pushing him into the Experimental Chamber.

"Hey, doc," I whispered to him, bending down as we moved, and gently swept some hair out of his face. "Are you still there?"

"Mhm," he smirked at me, and for the first time, his face didn't look cold and distant to me.

"It's gonna be okay," I told him, my hand still cupping his dirty cheek. "We're gonna to give you some painkillers and then we'll patch you back up."

The second I said it, Dr. Liew appeared next to me with a morphine-filled needle and tried to find a decent vein to inject into. "Ugh," he then sighed, barely able to see Crane's skin underneath the dried stains of blood. "I can't see a thing like this!"

He eventually managed, however, and turned to Mike and handed him a key. "There should be some antiseptics and antibiotics in the medical cabinet in my office, I'll go and try to find something to stitch him up."

"Try to get the blood off if you can," he told me. "There are towels in the toilets."

I quickly found a rag I could wet with water, and when I returned, Crane was already gone far enough to no longer notice me, so I didn't really worry about being all alone with him. I started out cleaning him very softly, only one inch at a time.

First I wetted his hair a little and pulled it back from his face so it wasn't in the way, then I worked along his forehead and down his nose, tenderly and lightly, since I was afraid that every second he could wake up and break into cries of pain. I brushed over his cheeks, his high jawbones, his broad chin.

I blushed when he suddenly began to smile and opened his bright eyes to stare up at my concentrated face, so close to his that he could have kissed me by simply stretching his neck. I grew even redder when I realised I had just thought about kissing Crane.

"You know, Doc," he told me as I cleaned his neck and ears. "I could get used to this."

I was unsure first, checking his eyes to make sure he wasn't mocking me, but then tried to smile too. It was indeed very intimate in the semi-darkness and the silence, but I told myself that the blood and the knowledge of who he was killed any possible romance right at the roots. Mike dropped by and handed me the sanitizing alcohol and a box of small white pills. "It says here you should give him two now, and another two in 30 minutes," he explained.

"Thanks, Mike," I smiled at him. "I think you can go now if you want to." He nodded and reluctantly left with a worried look back at us.

When I looked back down at Crane, I was surprise that he was still staring at me, looking right into my eyes calmly, and it felt as if he was staring right into my head. I dropped two pills in between his lips, and he swallowed them, showing me his empty mouth.

"Now that I've been a good boy, will you also clean my other wounds... down there?" he said with an atypically naughty smirk, and I let out a small, nervous, uncharacteristic giggle - blame it on the tension - before I opened the top buttons of his stained shirt.

Despite his narrow, rather small frame, his pale chest was quite perfectly defined with muscles, and his smooth stomach moved with a sharp inhale when my hand first touched his torso.

His body wasn't all that bad, I concluded - injury-wise, of course. He looked quite okay still, in spite of the big red spots across his abdomen and shoulder, already bruising, and the open gashes on the side of his chest.

I cleaned the wounds as well as I could, and then slowly - and with a very guilty expression - let my hand push away even the small, torn rests of his shirt and then just lie there on his upper body to feel the warmth radiating and pulsing through his body.

It shouldn't feel this good, but that was the only thing I was sure of. I should feel terrified right now, or at least scared, but I didn't. The contact was natural, calm and comfortable, and I liked it. Enough to enjoy the feeling of his smooth skin under my fingertips.

How it must feel, I mused, when you were with him the real way. When he liked you instead of ridiculing you every waking second. When he tried to be nice and make you fall in love, romantically.

He cleared his throat and I suddenly noticed that my fingertips had travelled to the waistband of his pants.

"I don't mind, doc," he smirked. "I won't tell anyone you're groping your patients." "Very funny, Crane," I sneered at him and swiftly put a little ethanol on the dry end of the towel, which I then patted onto his injuries.

Right away, he grimaced because of the burn, and I felt satisfaction that the smug shit-eating grin had vanished from his face. "Pull yourself together, doc. I know you've had worse pains."

He rolled his eyes at me. "Maybe it's not the pain but the sudden change from loving and affectionate to bitter and resentful." "Careful, Crane," I warned him. "You're not the one holding the alcohol drenched towel over open sores."

He chuckled slightly, but was quiet and held still while I finished up my task.

"Great, done," I declared. "You're pretty again." Did I just say that out loud? Luckily, he was out of it again, and hadn't heard or understood what I had said. Liew came back, with a needle and simple sewing supplies, and I held Crane's hand while the doctor was working, although I couldn't even look at it.

"You can leave," Liew said when he was done, pushing the gurney to the elevator. "Are you sure? What if he wakes up? You'd be all alone," I objected, but he simply laughed. "Dr. Barker, I was the best medical student of my year, if I inject someone with morphine, he stays out."

The entrance hall, where I had dropped my coat and bag, was empty now, except for Rob who just stood there, gathering dust and brooding in a corner. "I'm heading home," I told him and was about to leave when he held me back.

"I found these in the staff room. I guess they're for you," he muttered and handed me a huge bouquet of flaming red roses with a note attached to it saying: "Valentine."

I took them wide-eyed and in my surprise, was only able to state the obvious. "He misspelled my name." Why did Bruce bother to send me flowers if he didn't even bother to remember my name?

I inspected the flowers a little closer - the colour was absolutely, positively wonderful - and turned the note around, reading out loud: "Trust me, Batman will pay for this - J."

"J?" I half-shrieked, spinning to stare at Rob. "Rob, please don't tell me they're from –"

"Joker," he finished, looking at me with a mixture of disappointment, disgust and worry. I glared at the note as if I could get it to give me more information this way, but it didn't work. Then I looked back up at Rob, shaking my head disbelievingly. "But - why?"

It was the biggest question on my mind as well as Rob's, but neither of us knew the answer. Nor did I know how or when he had gotten them here, for that matter.

"Jesus, Val..." Rob mumbled in a secretive, cautious way. "You know this means trouble, right? If the Warden finds out…" He left his sentence unfinished, but we both knew of the unspoken threat that was in the air.

"But he won't," I said decisively and through clenched teeth. "The only ones who know of this are you and I. And you won't tell on me, will you? I can trust you, right, Robert?"

He was quiet, glancing up at me with an apologetic, fearful look in his eyes. "Right?" I repeated impatiently, fearing his honest answer.

Finally, he hesitantly nodded. "Y-Yes… Yes, you can trust me."

* * *

AN: So, yeah, I know I'm getting kind of fixed with Crane, but she'll meet the Joker again in the next chapter or at very least the chapter after that. I hope you look forward to it!


	8. The Crow Flies

Oh, uh... Hello. Long time no see, eh? Err... Well, this is weird.

So, I'm honestly sorry for not updating in such a long long time (I'm horrible), but all the more I appreciate every single one of you who's stuck around. I hope you're still somewhat interested because I really gotten into writing this again and just remembered how much I enjoy it :)

Without further ado, I hope you enjoy the chapter - and I promise you won't have to wait as long for the next one.

* * *

I ought to be more bothered. I really did. The thing that upset me most about my current situation was the fact that I felt too calm about it - it was wrong. Here I was in a position completely out of my control, with no idea of where I stood, who or what posed a danger or why anyone acted the way they acted - and I just didn't care.  
I mean, I obviously realised what was happening, I was aware there was a sociopathic criminal on the loose, a deranged murderer, and that he had somehow managed to - what was it even? Be interested in some weird advantage in me? And I knew that people went out of their way to avoid me like I had the black plague, I knew that the fact I hadn't gone to the police posed not just a danger to my career but my life too - but for some reason, I was just so strangely... relaxed. Entranced, even. Maybe... Was it me going loony now?

Damn it. I groaned and rolled out of bed, but my mind kept spinning. I wanted nothig more than a little company at the moment, which was not a lot like me. I guess even I realised that being this alone with your thoughts couldn't be healthy. Especially when I could barely sleep. Sighing, I walked over to a window of my Upper-Midtown flat and looked out into the darkness. Gotham city was never asleep, not even at this time of night, not even in the cold of the winter that had just ended. People hurried past like tiny ants, all caught up in their little affairs and businesses. I wasn't even sure we belonged to the same species anymore.  
Staring down at them with a slight notion of contempt creeping up on me, I couldn't help but feel like I could see the big picture - at least this was a definite sign I was loosing it. Crazy people were always enlightened; that was what made them crazy. Still, I had seen what could happen. I knew how fragile and crushable a human life really was. How unimportant. I thought back to the man Joker had killed in the security room at the Asylum - it felt like a lifetime ago - and how quickly it had happened. How little was necessary to die. **Kill**.

_Now you actually sound crazy._

Yeah. Obsessing over a recently witnessed murder should probably be taken as a pretty sure sign of a _slight _mental problem.  
I moved over to my bedroom drawer. In a little brownish cardboard box on top, where I stored some photographs and memorabilia, was the small note I had gotten with the roses, the one with the big capital J on it, staring up into my face. I didn't even know why I kept it. Maybe I just wanted to possess something that stopped me from realizing what everyone - including my sane self - claimed: that he was just plain evil, a villain, a monster. Something that reminded me that somewhere, deep down, he was just human, a man, someone who sent roses to girls, someone with a heart and feelings, with a pulse and a pride. Not so very different from everyone else.

Then again, I was pretty sure he wanted us to think otherwise.

* * *

I pushed past a row of dark metal doors with no handles but only peepholes in front to look in, which were all firmly bolted now. There was a strange odour in the air, a sort of filthy smell, not like unwashed, not even dirty, but a special stink which you only got with the criminal types, a dusty, greasy, hopeless sort of smell.

"Open 32."  
An affirmative buzz as the mechanical safety locks on the high-security door released, letting it slide open to the side. A bearded security guard seemed to shoot me a look as I walked past, but I took it as a sign of my growing paranoia.  
Of course I still had this one last sort of human interaction; therapy. And with Crane recently beaten to pulp, they had reduced some of his safety procedures, which noticeably lightened his mood. However, seeing him smile still made the hair on the back of my neck stand up; and the ecstatic broad grin he wore on today was no different. Everything that made him this happy was bound to scare me.  
Suddenly a little tense, I eyed him closely as I walked in and took my seat behind the thick pane of bullet proof glass. "Good morning, doctor," he simply smirked at my frown, letting his piercing blue eyes scan my face intently. "Don't you look particularly pretty today?" I raised my eyebrows at his snide cynicism - which always hit home - and tucked one lose, particularly frizzy strand of hair behind my ear as well as trying to smoothen my clothes a little without him noticing. His eyes flicked over my attire - white, which provided little contrast against the light grey Asylum walls - ever so obviously smug.

I know what I look like, I wanted to tell him, I've stared at myself for hours this night when I was meant to be sleeping. My hair was fuzzy and strawy, my skin looked like I hadn't washed my face in weeks and my eyes were tired and empty. Yes, the recent events had taken their toll on me. But they hadn't spared him either.  
"Haven't seen a mirror recently, have you?" I gave so sharply it surprised even myself. My satisfaction came almost instantly. Crane pressed his full lips into a thin, firm line and set his jaw like a spoiled little kid. His unamusement didn't fail to, well, amuse me. In fact, I guessed that for once I was actually the better looking one of us, with the beating he'd received still very evident on his face.  
"Funny, doctor," he snarled, a slender hand quickly fingering the large bandage covering one of his delicates cheeks, the rest of his pale face coloured blue, greenish or yellow with bruises. He eyed me for a moment, watched me looking for the correct notes, then chipped suddenly cheerfully, "You had Nigma this morning, didn't you? Tell me, why's he been so grumpy recently?"  
His slightly eery tone renewed my suspicions, and I scowled when I replied, "What I discuss with **Mister **Nigma is between the two of us. I don't see how it interests you." "Well, it's just... Things one hears." He cocked his chin out, obviously hoping I'd bite. When I didn't, he continued with very carefully woven indifference, "About your relationship." I decided he was getting seriously ridiculous now and snapped my notebook shut. "I'm not really one for gossiping, Crane." I painted a forced smile across my chapped lips. "So I'd rather talk about **our **relationship instead."  
He grimaced for a moment, stretching his pretty mouth into a sneer, but eventually budged. Motioning to the small carton of milk in front of him, he started, "You see I've been a good boy." Only inmates with a low security level received such luxuries, and for good measure too; some people here had killed with less then a paper straw.  
"And I've finally accepted that it's no use arguing with crazy people." I cocked an eyebrow at that, seeing as it seemed to be my - and formerly his - job. "They think I'm not much of a threat like this," he explained, showing me his right arm cast and bandaged left wrist and then glared down at the carton with contempt. "I can't even carry this by myself."  
I barely managed to suppress a pitiful frown, which he didn't seem to notice. Even though his security level had been temporarily down-rated for his protection, sending him out to the other patients like this seemed like feeding him to the wolves. On the other hand, I'd heard how afraid most inmates were of him, and had to agree. Everyone in their right mind would do well to keep off him; then again, not many crazies were in their right mind.

Leaving his eyes down-cast for a while and drawing an invisible pattern onto the steel table with a thin finger, he inched closer to the small holes in the glass and looked me over again. In a whisper so low I had to lean forward to catch it, he stated, "I guess now would be the right time for a break-out, huh?" My head shot up violently, an instinctively shocked expression on my face - until I saw his broadly smirking expression. The joke was decisively too soon for my taste, and I had to clear my throat, scoot back in my chair and scribble something down before asking, "What would make you say something like that, Crane?"  
"Oh, I don't know," he shrugged, straightening with his cold eyes still resting on me. "The Joker was able to do it. Why not me?" "Well, yeah," I admitted with a small nod. "But you and Joker are a little different, don't you think?"  
It was clearly the wrong thing to say. I could just about watch his face drop immediately; his generally relaxed expression froze up and the corners of his mouth drooped as he clenched his teeth tightly. With his tone almost a whole octave deeper, he sharply demanded, "Please, do explain."  
Dammit. Pretty boy was upset. And I had no patience for these mood-swings. I knew would have to play this careful, but I felt so fed up with always having to lie to everyone, sugarcoating the edges, never giving my opinion without a smile - didn't I owe it to him as his doctor to talk about things he didn't like? Even at the cost that he might get a little offended?

"I think that... you can see... the value in other people." There was no reaction readable in his face or stance except a slight raise of his lip, probably indicating a sneer, so I continued, "Even if you're just trying to use them." I would have to try not to let him lure me into giving him too much insight on my evaluation; I had a habit of annoying little slip-ups when I was nervous.  
After a moment of consideration, Crane nodded in affirmation and leant back a little, pulling a hand through his brown mess of hair. The swollen red spots on his face still bothered me. "My impression of the Joker, however," I continued, looking at my hands folded in my lap, "is that he has absolutely no regard whatsoever for human life."

_Liar._

"Not even his own."

_Oh, you dirty little liar._

"And being a bit suicidal helps when you're up against Arkham guards."

We were quiet for a bit, my gaze avoiding his as I rethought my words. Looking back up, I caught his clear blue orbs, as serenely beautiful as ever, but somehow deeper, darker. He very slowly parted his lips to speak, and said in a low, deep tone, "You say things like that..." He in- and exhaled audibly, almost exasperated,"... and yet you're fascinated by him."  
At this, an involuntary sharp scoff escaped me before I quickly turned my head down so he wouldn't see my reaction. I was by no means ready nor willing to give him the satisfaction of upsetting me. The Joker and everything that concerned him was stored in a very different, private part of my mind, something I wouldn't share with anyone. This was none of his business, and he had no right to talk about it like this. He didn't even have the right to hear me denying it.  
"Oh, please," he laughed his typically icy, predatory laugh and his eyes hardened. "Tell me it's not true... Don't worry, I won't tell anyone - not like they would believe me anyway." I kept looking away, pretending to write something down while gripping the pen so hard my knuckles whitened. It was hard to be quiet, but I would not gratify this rudeness with an answer; I would not show him irritation when he most wanted it.  
I looked up when I'd managed to set my face in stone, and saw him prepared to dig deeper. "Don't think I can't see right through you," he just about cooed. "Anyway, he's gone now. And not coming back. You can tell me." I glared at him. In a determined yet quiet tone I answered, "Let's be serious now."

_The irony._

"Why would you want to break out?"

For a split-second, the corners of his mouth twitched upwards, seeing as the conversation was back to his favourite subject - himself - and his eyes seemed to lose some of their hardness. "I don't really know either," he mumbled, looking at the opposite wall as if pondering, and then turned back to me with a tilt of his head. "Wouldn't it impress you?"  
I sighed, this room was starting to give me a head-ache. The grey walls, his stupid questions and the cold recycled air, seemingly thinning by the second. "No. Of course not." He grinned, not without a glint of annoyance in his gaze. "And now with the honest answer. Please." I sneered at him, placing both hands firmly on the table. He wasn't lying about seeing through me. "No," I repeated. "Scarecrow is my patient, now. Joker never was."  
His reaction was immediate, and just as I had expected. An almost feline scowl, like he was prepared to claw at me, and a deep glare from across the table - I knew I had him. We both knew he had asked to be transferred to me - he didn't want to be pushed back on Rob. "Nobody could have helped the Joker," I pressed on.

_You don't even believe that one yourself._

"But Scarecrow - or at least Crane... I don't give up my cases that easily." He continued to eye me with a fair amount of interest. "Call it professional pride." And there was his smile again; I had counted on him being able to relate.

"If the price is..." I bit the inside of my lip, thinking hard about how to put this. "Me being a little more... clear... with you, I'm sure we can work something out." And then, putting as much courage in my voice as I could afford, "We might as well work with open cards." His features softened at once, and he thoughtfully tapped his long, delicate fingers on the table twice before looking me in the eye. Something seemed a little blurry with my vision today. "So we'll play nice," he snorted. "Is that your idea?"  
I chuckled at his plain disapproval. "Listen, I already have **one **insufferable intellectual with Nigma. If the two of us could strike up some sort of deal... I'd be all for it." He studied my face with his icy blue orbs, maybe searching for some sort of a trap, but found none. "You know..." A slanted smile appeared on his lips, and then turned into a full cheeky grin showing all his pearly whites. "As much as I hate to revise my diagnosis..." Even beneath the swollen bruises and the scratches, I could see one long, slim dimple peek from the lefthand corner of his mouth. "You're nowhere near as boring as I thought you were."  
I arched an eyebrow and huffed, trying my best to look less accomplished than I actually felt. I really was not myself today - but apparently I wasn't the only one who liked it. "I can't be sure you're serious about it though," he mumbled more to himself than me, leaning back slightly in his chair. "How do I know this isn't just a trick?"  
"If it was, you'd have learned it years ago," I justly deadpanned; and quickly followed it up with one of the stupidest thing I may had ever said, "I'll prove it. Ask me anything." Even to myself at the time, this statement did not sound right - but I chose to ignore it.

His grin reappeared, maybe even wider than before, threatening to split his pretty face in two; out of nowhere my brain procured a split-second visual of this last thought - Crane's lips violently extended by knife, the upper part of his head only attached to his jaw by a few left strings. I immediately twitched in my seat at the disturbing image, shaking my head as if to physically shush it away. Crane eyed me carefully as I massaged my closed eyes with my warm palms and tried to get back on track. A scratch at the far back of my throat made me cough. The air really was strange in here. _Smelly_, too.  
"I'm afraid," he then started softly, looking more enthusiastic than ever, "I don't have a question to ask you." "What?" I gave back with a smug smirk. He'd been trying for too long to pretend like he didn't care now. "Not even about my fears, Crane? Your area of expertise?" "No," he replied with a casual shrug; I frowned sharply when I noticed his mouth seemed slightly out of synch with the voice I heard. I decided to say nothing though, despite my brain being strangely upset at it, at him, his behaviour. I just couldn't focus enough to figure out why. In fact, I felt... strange. Very, _**very** _strange.  
"Why should I ask you that, doctor?" He continued, his icy stare slicing through me. What was that feeling? I sniffed the air loudly. What was that smell? The creepy head-ache kept drilling at my mind like a nightmare, suppressing a faint memory hovering just beyond my reach. It had something to with... with... dizzyness. Why did it feel so important to me now?

_Questions only ever go so far..._

"What?" My eyes snapped up too fast, way too fast, and suddenly I was groggy enough to feel nearly incapable of holding my head straight. Crane was still grinning like a Cheshire cat, but he was no longer beautiful. There was something very fundamentally cruel in his expression now, hard and cold. I had seen that look before.  
"_Tests_, Valentina..." He said with such a deep, quiet voice, it shook the very core of me. I felt myself slumping down to one side and saw my hands dig hard into the table to keep me from falling - my fingers; suddenly they were freakishly long, bony, with sharp nails that looked like knives, demon-red. I looked back up just in time to catch Crane's face shifting, seemingly to expanding for a second before snapping back to it's regular form. What was happening to me? I opened my mouth to say something, but instead of words, only an empty, sour burp escaped me.

_Tests cannot be cheated._

He laughed. And with the laughter, his face disappeared, in it's place now a horrifying mask of tight skin, featureless except for a smudged black hole for a mouth and his deep, piercing eyes shining out on top like searchlights, looking for me. A shrill scream of fear escaped me when I clung to the table as he moved closer, eyeing me like a falcon.  
He bent towards me, and I could smell the toothpaste on his breath, the milk from the carton... and... something more. Something that made my head pulsate wildly with pain. The mask twisted horribly, shrinking and then slowly transforming into a very familiar view. Bending over me with hungry eyes and thick, gooey blood dripping from one corner of his retracted lips, was Eddie; my funny, cute, charming little Eddie.  
"Stop, please!" I cried out, slipped backwards of the chair and hard onto the floor, pressing both hands firmly against my head which felt like it would split wide open with pain any second. Not him, anything but him. In my head, I could hear him spew insults at me, the things he always thought but never said.

_Disgusting vermin. Stupid, naive, easy little__ doctor. Fucking bitch.  
_

His deep, growling voice spiraled up until it sounded like a million menacing, angry insects. When it reached its peak, his face morphed again, this time stretching grossly beyond the proportions of any human head, the skin hardening, glistening like a reptile's.  
Killer Croc leered down at me, baring rows and rows of sharp long fangs with the foul, sour smell of decay on his breath as it hit my face. My voice died out, mouth still opened wide in a now silent scream as the monster moved over me with its black claws closing in on either side of me, prepared to dig them right into the soft flesh at my temples and into my brain.

_What you fear most..._

The smell of something rotten on his breath. Dizzyness, light-headedness, hallucinations. Gas. Poison. And just when I realised what Crane was doing to me, his face changed back once again to his own - no, Scarecrow's. The skin turned into the rough, jagged fabric of his burlap sack; long, fat maggots were crawling in every thread and falling down on top of me. Small clouds of fear toxin streamed out of the stitches of his mouth hole, and just before everything went black, I somehow found the strength to scream once more.

_...is __**us**__._


End file.
